Own Personal Enterprise
by This Is Da Vinci Speaking
Summary: He found, much to his surprise and dismay, that he could want what she wanted. And he did want what she wanted. Spock/OC. Rated for language.
1. The Wrong Side

**Oh god, please be nice, this is my first-ever _Trek_ story, and since this whole fandom is a bit overwhelming to me my confidence level is shot. I was reluctant to even post this story at all. So, all begging aside, should I continue?  


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_**One:**_**  
The Wrong Side**

"Jim, come on, I don't need your help."

"Apparently you do, because you just turned off the screen."

"I j—what am I even _doing_ down here?! I belong at the communications station!"

Jim Kirk laughed and crossed his arms. "Lieutenant Phiora, you've been pining for that comm. station for as long as you've been on the _Enterprise_. I figured you needed to stretch out your legs a little."

"With all due respect, Captain," the young woman said wryly, throwing him a dirty look, "I'll stretch out my leg to kick you in the face if you don't leave me alone."

Captain Kirk laughed again. "Alright, shift's starting. Back to your station, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir," Phiora said, smiling.

Literally a second later, the turbolift doors slid open to reveal a man dressed in science blues, his hands clasped behind his back and an unwavering expression on his face. He bowed his head curtly at the young Lieutenant about to board the lift, then the captain. "Captain," he said, striding over to the science station.

Kirk and Phiora exchanged a look before the doors closed. "Well, Spock," Kirk said cheerily; a stark contrast to the First Officer's demeanor. "Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"

"That would be illogical, taking into consideration the fact that there is no 'wrong side' of any one person's bed." He raised a sharp eyebrow. "And also considering how many beds you've seen, one has to conjecture at the naïveté of your query, Sir."

Kirk held up his hands defensively. "Geez, Spock, alright, you're cranky this morning. I understand. No need to bite my head off."

As Ensign Chekov and Helmsman Sulu arrived, Spock took a moment to consider his attitude from all possible angles. "I apologize, Captain. I merely awoke to find I had missed an opportunity to partake in meditation."

Kirk nodded in understanding, but under his breath he murmured, "And that is bullshit."

He watched his First Officer closely. The Vulcan may have only been, in fact, half-Vulcan, but the human side to him could not under any circumstances completely hide any emotion he felt. Right now he was angry and hurt.

The captain discreetly approached Spock as the bridge gradually filled with crewmembers. "Spock," he murmured, unceremoniously looking around. "Do you need to take some time off? I could arrange that for you...."

"I assure you that I am in perfect rational order, Captain," the science officer said, not looking up from his station. "There is no reason psychologically or physically for me to take any time off, therefore—"

"She put the kibosh on it, didn't she?"

To Kirk's amusement Spock understood the archaic word. A few moments went by, and then Spock finally looked up at his captain. "Incorrect. I did."

Kirk wasn't surprised about this, but he _was_ surprised that his science officer was hurt and angry because of this. He made to ask about it but was stopped because the woman they were talking about had just walked through the doors.

"Captain," Lieutenant Uhura said just as briskly as Spock and, after throwing a brief glance at the two men, sat down at the communications station.

"Lieutenant," Kirk said resignedly. He shook his head, a weary grin plastered on his face, and retreated to his chair. He was going to have to talk to Spock later.

* * *

Later, to Kirk's elation, did come. An entire hour later the First Officer withdrew to the turbolift and, seeing this, Kirk excitedly jumped in just as the doors were about to close.

"Mr. Spock," Kirk started, but Spock cut him off.

"Sir, with all due respect, I truly wish not to discuss the matter with you." Seeing the brief flash of hurt darting across the captain's face, he added, "With anyone."

Jim pursed his lips and hit the STOP button. Spock closed his eyes.

"Okay, Spock," the commanding officer said, crossing his arms. "Don't make me do this the hard way."

After a silent second, Spock—his eyes still shut—clasped his hands behind his back. "I do not believe—"

"Computer, lock turbolift."

"_Turbolift...locked. Please use access code to unlock._"

Spock opened his eyes, confused.

Jim grinned. "Brand-spanking-new. Scotty installed it this morning. It's voice activated as well." He leaned against the wall. "This is a busy ship, Spock, so if I were you, I'd get talking."

"I don't understand why you do not merely order me to inform you. It is well within your authority to do so, Captain."

"Come on, that's not right," Kirk said, shaking his head. "That wouldn't be fair, would it? I mean...I consider you a friend. That's really the only reason I'm asking; because you're a friend and I'm allowed to be concerned. It has nothing to do with rank or capabilities."

Spock nodded quietly, unsure he understood why Jim was willing to trap them both in an elevator until he talked yet unwilling to order him to speak. He didn't want to dwell on the matter.

"I ended the relationship because I found I did not want her."

The coldness of that sentence actually startled Kirk. "You threw her away?"

"Incorrect. I did not want her."

The repetition gave the captain pause. He narrowed his eyes, rubbing his bottom lip with his index finger absently. "Oh, okay...." He hesitated. "Okay, are you telling me you _didn_'_t_ want her...or you _couldn_'_t_ want her?"

Spock's eyebrows jolted into his hairline. "Sir, I guarantee you—" He stopped himself short and a swift expression of nausea rushed across his face. Kirk tried very, _very_ hard not to grin, because he instantly knew Spock was about to defend his...competence. Perhaps the Vulcan was more human than anyone imagined. "The reason was because I could not want what she wanted."

Kirk grew serious. "Personal choice or you just...had _no_ choice?"

Spock knew that his captain could tell the conversation was quickly ending, so he simply answered with, "I had a definite choice."

Kirk watched his friend for a moment, then nodded. "Computer, unlock turbolift; access code one-delta-nine-four-two."

"_Turbolift...unlocked. Standing by for destination._"


	2. The Landing Party

_**Two:  
The Landing Party**_

Jim sighed through his nose, keeping his eye on the doctor. "Uhura will be fine, right? I mean, she doesn't need me to talk to her?"

Leonard "Bones" McCoy raised his eyebrows without looking away from the obscure concoction he was loading into a hypospray. "You've got to be joking. Jim, Lieutenant Uhura is the very embodiment of independence. Talking to her would either end in failure or a broken wrist." He looked up. "Look, your intentions are very noble, but you're the captain of the _U.S.S. Enterprise_, not the captain of dramatic relationships_ aboard _the _U.S.S. Enterprise_."

Kirk shrugged, looking at the surface of the table he was leaning on. "You're right. I have no time to meddle in the affairs of the underclass." He grinned up at Bones, who rolled his eyes. "Hey, look, we have some supplies to retrieve from a trader planet and I want you to join the landing party."

"Who else is in it?"

"Uh...me, Lieutenant Phiora—simply for special reasons; she can read people _very_ well," he added quickly once he noticed the confused expression on Bones's face, "two guards, and hopefully you." When Bones didn't say anything, Kirk exhaled . "And Spock."

"Dammit, Jim," McCoy cursed, turning away to fiddle with some doo-dad. "Fine, I'll go."

Kirk grinned again. "It's not like you had a choice," he said before exiting, leaving the CMO to shake his head irately.

* * *

Spock kept his eyes on the floor as he entered the transporter room, fastening his weapon belt snugly around his waist. He had been mulling the entire day, yet couldn't find any reason to do so, which irritated him. Of course, the fact that he was actually irritated in the first place irritated him even more, causing a very irritating cycle. What aggravated him more than anything, though, was the fact that he wasn't thinking about Nyota at all, save for that exact moment.

And all of that was supposed to be a _positive_ thing for a Vulcan, let alone a half-Vulcan.

He attributed his lapse of detachment to his human half—without prejudice, obviously—and focused his attention on the goings-on in the transporter room.

"...don't understand why we're beaming down when we can just beam the supplies up," Dr. McCoy was saying to Jim as the two security officers and the Lieutenant got on the transporter pad.

"Well, we've had an on-again, off-again friendship with this particular planet," the captain replied, nodding to Spock to acknowledge him being there, "so I want to be absolutely sure we're in the on-again category."

McCoy frowned. "Don't you think bringing six people including yourself down there will put us in a bad light?"

"The arrangement was discussed with Cygnus Four, Doctor," Spock interjected, "and they have expressed their acceptance." He took his place beside Lieutenant Phiora on the pad. "The councilman we conferred with is in opposition to those who have been less-than-friendly with us in the past."

"Well, that's a relief I suppose," McCoy mumbled before he and Jim took their own places.

Spock noticed the lieutenant glance at the captain before the latter gave Mr. Scott the go-ahead. In swirling beams of bright light, the six of them disappeared, reappearing moments later on the planet's surface.

"Okay," Jim said to the group, "we actually don't have to be back on the ship with the supplies for a good twenty minutes yet, so Bones, Spock, and Phiora, go ahead with a security officer and just explore while the other officer and I talk to the councilman."

"Captain," Spock started.

"No," Jim interrupted. "Hush. Explore."

Spock raised an eyebrow as the captain and a guard retreated towards the small building several feet ahead of them.

"If I didn't know him better," McCoy drawled, "I'd say he was up to something." He shook his head and turned to walk the other direction. "But I know him better."

The lieutenant smiled as the three of them, followed not-too-closely by a security officer, strolled out own their own. "It's a lovely planet, isn't it?" she asked, taking a deep breath. "I love having the chance to beam down and enjoy strange places."

Spock's brow furrowed, his hands behind his back. "Well, if you ask Jim, I'm sure he'd be willing to allow you more of those opportunities whenever they arise."

Phiora shook her head. "It's not that important to me."

There was a silence between the trio for a few moments.

"There must be something that is important enough to you," Spock suggested almost nonchalantly.

"Actually, yes," Phiora said. "I've always wanted to work in communications."

Spock raised his eyebrows, genuinely interested. "I presume you've majored in something akin to xenolinguistics?"

"I'm fluent in one-hundred-twelve different languages."

"Fascinating," the science officer replied earnestly. Bones looked slowly over at the Vulcan, his face clearly asking if he'd gone completely unhinged. Spock chose to ignore it. "However, the position you want does expect more than only one-hundred-twelve languages, lieutenant."

Phiora grinned. "Then it's a good thing that's not all I have going for me." She shrugged. "I can speak and understand one-hundred-twelve spoken and written languages, but I can hear and understand over twelve-thousand non-spoken and non-written languages."

Spock stopped walking, causing Phiora to stop, which in turn caused McCoy to stop.

"Are you a telepath?"

Phiora nodded. "Not a very strong one, I'm afraid. A person would have to purposefully aim their thoughts at my general direction."

Spock's curiosity got the better of him. "So if I were to ask you to tell me what attractive thoughts Doctor McCoy was sending my way...?"

Phiora turned to the CMO and paused. "I would tell you with all due respect to ask me something else," she replied, eyeing the taller man. Bones rolled his eyes.

They walked in silence for a few moments, and Spock unconsciously let his mind wander. Languages, xenolinguistics, communications...Uhura...he frowned. He could not comprehend why he was so disturbed over the fact that he wasn't upset about her. The thought itself though was an illogical paradox....

"Mr. Spock," the lieutenant said suddenly but softly, causing Spock to look up and realize the doctor had wandered off somewhere nearby. "You're going to give yourself a headache."

It was then that Spock figured out the real reason why Jim wanted a landing party.


	3. Intellectual Downpour

**_Three:_  
Intellectual Downpour**

Spock had kept his mouth shut from the moment he'd pieced it together right up until his foot crossed the threshold to Kirk's quarters. The first thing out of his mouth was a vicious,

"Permission to speak freely, Captain?"

Kirk groaned exasperatedly, only half aware the Vulcan had followed him all the way to his own quarters. He also only half anticipated the berating that was going to commence. All he had to do was say two simple words and Spock would leave in a huff without saying a thing. Two simple words....

"Permission granted."

Those were not the words....

"With every last bit of respect due," Spock said, his voice deathly low, "I do not believe it is within your rights or authority as my commanding officer to beam me down and leave me alone with a telepath to infiltrate my thoughts and purposefully prevent me from my own contemplations."

Kirk flopped down into his chair and propped his feet up on the desk, crossing his arms. "Now, Spock—"

"Furthermore, I do not see it fit to send down the Chief Medical Officer for additional psychiatric evaluations."

Jim paused and raised his eyebrows. "Now, that's impressive. I didn't even know that's why I sent him down."

Spock's eyes flashed—briefly. "So you admit your intentions weren't as pure as you'd previously suggested?"

Jim sighed in surrender. "I didn't send the lieutenant and Bones down entirely to...spy on you, as you say." He took a good look at Spock's face and leaned forward, placing his feet back on the floor. "Listen, I'm really sorry. I just wanted to make sure you weren't going to start wailing on someone. You Vulcans are incredibly strong when you're provoked."

"I am perceptibly aware of this fact," Spock said, clenching his fists.

"Sit down, Commander." At first the Vulcan didn't move, and Jim motioned to the chair in front of the desk, lowering his voice to sound both soft and authoritative. "Sit down." The other man finally did so. "It does no one any good for you to be angry, Spock. Anger's a human emotion, you know." He took a few moments for Spock to cool down, then he spoke again. "Now, the fact of the matter is that I accidentally-on-purpose set up the landing party for more or less the reasons you implied."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I don't quite follow, Sir."

"Lieutenant Phiora is a good friend of mine. I didn't know she was even on the _Enterprise_ until a few weeks ago." He smiled. "As you found out, she's a telepath who's very good at helping people feel better. It seemed to work until you found out the whole thing."

"Captain, I—"

"Didn't it?"

Spock paused. Jim was right; the entire time he was talking to the lieutenant, he felt fine. "Most peculiar," he mumbled.

Kirk's smile turned into a smirk. "And I sent Bones down there with you just to piss him off."

The commander stared at him.

* * *

As Spock left, Phiora was just arriving. The man brushed past her without a second thought, and she raised her eyebrows at the captain.

"He's really mad, Jim," she said, entering the quarters and sitting where Spock had been sitting. "Would you like me to relay the Vulcan nastiness he was...." She drifted off, watching as Kirk watched her. "He's _mad_."

Kirk beamed. "I _dare_ Bones to say something."

Phiora turned to stare at the door, which was closed. "He's really an extraordinary person...trying so hard to remain emotionless yet ultimately failing because he's trying." She looked back at her friend. "Luckily for you though Lieutenant Uhura is no longer weighing on his mind. Whatever you talked about in here made sure of that."

The captain smiled. "Good. Then what do I owe you, Lieutenant Phiora of Onofrio?"

Phiora stood up. "You owe me at least a few more chances to be part of a landing party. Sir."

Kirk leaned back. "Then it shall be done." He suddenly remembered something. "Phiora, are you going to be talking to your dad tonight?"

"Probably before I go to bed. Why?"

"Could you tell him I'm sorry again?"

Phiora rolled her eyes. "Jim...please do us all a favor and let it go. Trying to pick up women is your force of habit. Besides, I've rejected you and now we're really good friends." She reached over and patted his arm affectionately. "I'd kiss your cheek but that would be in bad taste," she teased.

She approached the doors.

"Just a small, tiny 'Sorry?'"

"Drop it, Sir." Just before the doors closed she said over her shoulder, "You're still alive, aren't you? I'm pretty sure you're forgiven."

Jim chuckled.

* * *

"I just wanted to tell you I followed your advice."

Spock looked up from the game of chess he was playing against the computer. It was his third attempt to elicit something other than a draw from the program he was setting up, and the calm, thought-provoking repetition was oddly quieting. He sat up straighter, which for any other person would have been impossible. "Lieutenant. I find it logical to assume you're referring to the request of joining the landing party more frequently."

Phiora smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Spock."

As she disappeared from the otherwise empty room, Spock's attention once again diverted to the game. A few moments of silence ticked by, and the Vulcan leisurely lifted his bishop and set it beside the opposing queen.

"Checkmate," he murmured blankly, and the room nearly said it back.


	4. Into the Danger Zone

**This chapter might not make a lot of sense. I've discovered the hard way that I cannot listen to music, sing to said music, and write at the same time. I might tweak it a little later on, but right now it merely serves its purpose of moving the story along a wee bit.

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**_Four:_  
Into the Danger Zone**

Spock watched the young men at the helm, an eyebrow raised curiously.

"Eyg, Mr. Sulu," Chekov was saying almost exasperatedly. "I kennot sit 'eer end do nozing. Ze ship iz on autopilot, ze course 'ez been mepped out, and we are sittink 'eer end doink nozing. Zere 'ev been no attecks end no heppeninks aboard ze ship."

Sulu grinned empathetically. "When it's just supplies or cargo, it isn't that fun of a mission."

"Would you prefer Klingons to be attempting to board the ship and steal our supplies, virtually all of which serve no purpose to them?"

Chekov and Sulu turned to the commander, who raised his eyebrow even more.

"At least this dump would serve some sort of purpose," Uhura muttered uncharacteristically from her station.

Spock didn't turn to her yet lowered his eyes to the floor. "I would find it logical and beneficial to your safety if you did not repeat that to Mr. Scott," he said, standing up from the captain's chair as Kirk approached through the doors of the stationary turbolift.

The captain paused, however, having heard the last exchange. "Spock..." he grinned. "Was that...was that _humor_?"

The corner of the Vulcan's mouth curved upwards. "No, Captain. I was only conveying some helpful advice."

Kirk sat in the chair as Spock stood with his hands behind his back right next to him. "No, Spock. You were conveying some 'ha-ha', and that's very unlike you. Report to sickbay immediately."

There was a pause. "Captain...." Though it was made very clear by Jim that it was a joke, the man still made no move to verbally tell him so. "Sickbay...."

Kirk nodded. "Now," he said at length.

The Vulcan's ears twitched. "I fail to comprehend the amusements of humans," he murmured before striding off.

* * *

The amount of fury that engulfed Bones was too much to gauge with a simple glance, which Spock found the hard way. He stood and watched the doctor, very alert that he was in the probable path of destruction.

"That irritating, teeth-grinding little f—"

"Doctor McCoy." Spock cleanly sliced off the rest of that sentence with a sterilized scalpel. "I am aware that the captain had no real intent when he sent me down here, nonetheless, insulting him will get you, undoubtedly...nowhere."

The last word was said through hesitation because something caused Spock to divert his attention elsewhere. Lieutenant Phiora was currently staring at him from a bio-bed. She saw he noticed this and her eyes swiftly moved to latch on to something else.

Spock looked from McCoy to Phiora and back again, his brow furrowing. The humans were acting more bizarre than usual...but Phiora wasn't human, per se. Spock had met quite a few Onofrians in his time, seeing as Onofrio was Vulcan's neighboring planet. Onofrians were a human derivative, with the less-than-obvious difference of highly developed faculties. Onofrio and Vulcan were, while allied planets, very opposite.

This meant that while Vulcans normally felt and showed no emotion, Onofrians felt and showed _surplus_ emotion.

"Is there something you needed, Lieutenant?"

"I was just wondering why Jim—Captain Kirk—sent you down here as well."

McCoy frowned and turned to her. "Oh, right...you were sent down here for no reason too." After a pause, the doctor made to say something, then stopped. A thought crossed his mind, and he blinked rapidly. "That man is out of his ever-lovin' mind," he murmured, yielding and leaving the room in a huff before the commander could stop him.

"Odd," Spock said simply.

"Jim's up to something," Phiora informed him, scooting off of the bed and standing beside the Vulcan. "I've known him for a long time, and I've heard his mind. He's up to something."

"Are you aware of what that 'something' is, Lieutenant?"

Phiora watched the motionless med ward doors. "I'm afraid not."

Spock's eyebrows shot up. "You don't suppose he caught some alien disease on Cygnus Four...?"

"No. He's fine in terms of physical health."

"Why do you suspect the doctor ran off like that?"

"I'm not sure...."

* * *

"Bones, don't ruin it, okay?"

"Jim," the doctor said, getting really close to the captain's ear so what he was saying went to him and only him. "Jim, I don't think you understand what you're doing. In fact, I think it should be _you_ down at sickbay, not Spock or Phiora."

Captain Kirk grinned. "Come on. Just playing a little matchmaker. Who could it possibly hurt?"

"_Phiora_. It could hurt _Phiora_. What if your genius plan works for only half of the whole thing?" Bones physically turned Jim to face him. "What if Spock is already back to being that stubborn, unemotional green-blooded bastard and Phiora actually does feel something? Onofrians _do_ feel, Jim. They feel a _lot_."

There was a completely unexpressive silence during which Bones knew this thought had not crossed the darling captain's mind.

Bones continued with a flourish of his arms, "And now either one or both of them figured out something's going on, if not the fact that they're the only two contestants on _Matchmaker_."

"Maybe you're wrong, Bones. Maybe Phiora hasn't even thought of Spock that way. Maybe you're overreacting."

"Yeah, and maybe I should inject you with something powerful enough to knock you flat on your ass for the next week until we get the supplies to California." The doctor shook his head, walking away. "You don't mess with the natural order of things, Jim. You just...don't."

Kirk rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, standing alone in the corridor.

* * *

**The reason for the _Enterprise_ of all things being chosen to carry supplies will be explained, terribly, within the next chapter.**


	5. Cautions and Connections

**I'm just a newbie Trekkie, so I have no idea what I'm talking about half the time. Keep that in mind.

* * *

**

**_Five:_  
Cautions and Connections**

Phiora sighed as she made her way to the bridge. Her head was throbbing and there wasn't a single damn thing she could do about it. She felt so crummy she didn't even bother pulling her very dark brown hair back into its usual ponytail, for fear she'd cause her already tender head to swell. Too many thoughts that weren't even hers bombarded her each time someone passed her in the corridor.

That was part of the problem for an Onofrian woman. Once a female hit puberty, their "strong senses" turned into full-on mind-reading, and when that special time of every month arrived, they couldn't shut it off. On Onofrio, this usually meant the suffering female would close herself off from any and every sentient being that could think on its own—basically taking a week-long break from existence.

Lieutenant Phiora couldn't do that. Well, she had the option of asking Jim for at least a day or two away from life, but her conscience wouldn't allow her to do such a thing. Her job was too important to her. Plus, it would open doors to rumors about favoritism, and she wouldn't put either of them through that.

The second the doors to the bridge slid open, a strange list of options popped into her inflamed mind.

_You could:_

_A) Start killing everyone aboard the _Enterprise_._

_B) Sit down and cry like a baby._

_C) Stand there and look like a fool._

_Or D) Push past this and move on with life._

As she glanced around and was pelted by every thought on the bridge save for the computers themselves, she started to notice either options _A _or _B_ were starting to look pretty good. But she mentally shook her head and approached the captain.

"Mr. Scott sent me here to inform you that there's a small abrasion on one of the engines."

Kirk stood up from the captain's chair. "Are you okay? You look like your eyeballs are about to start bleeding."

Phiora snorted lightly. "Sir, please, I just came here to relay a message. Mr. Scott couldn't tell you himself because he's busy fixing the problem."

_How bad is it?_

"He said he's going to try and completely repair it on the way to Earth, but if he can't, it's nothing that can't be fixed within an hour after docking." She noticed the look on her friend's face. "You didn't ask that aloud, did you?"

Kirk straightened his spine. "Either go to sickbay or stay in your quarters until you feel up to returning to duty, Lieutenant."

"Sir—"

"That's an order."

Half of Phiora quietly cheered. The other half cursed inwardly. "Yes, sir."

Spock was watching the exchange from near the helm. He approached Kirk with a questioning eyebrow raised. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, she's just not feeling well."

Wrong move. Spock's eyebrow climbed higher and he nearly flung his hands behind his back. "Captain, I don't believe it is within any realm of fairness to relieve one crewmember of duty simply because she is 'not feeling well.' Also, the added factor that you and the lieutenant are friends leads one to presume that you are, as one would say, 'playing favorites.'"

Sure, the half-Vulcan was growing on Kirk. That didn't mean he had absolutely _no_ thoughts of punching him in the face.

"Okay, hold on," Kirk said suddenly, his hands up in a defensive gesture like they so often are around Commander Spock. "I thought Vulcan was a neighboring planet to Onofrio."

"Indeed it was," the other man confirmed, his voice dropping in strength the slightest amount on the word 'was.'

"So, uh...don't your people read up on your neighbors in school?"

Spock didn't bother to mention there were hardly any of his people left. He knew the captain didn't purposefully forget this fact. "It was a subject which Vulcan children studied, yes."

"What about Onofrian biology?"

The eyebrow had been up the entire time, but now it dropped down to its rightful place. "I understand now," he murmured, pointedly looking away.

Kirk noticed something and was about to ask when Uhura's voice broke his train of thought.

"Captain, we're being hailed by the Federation."

"Open frequency."

"Yes, sir."

He waited a moment, then sat back down in his chair. "This is Captain Kirk."

"Captain, this is Admiral Der'on," the deep voice filled the bridge. While it was a low voice, it did not lack friendliness; it briefly made Kirk glad that people with voices like that were on their side. "We would like to know if you've picked up the supplies without any trouble."

"Affirmative, Admiral," Kirk said jovially, glancing at Spock, who seemed to disagree on a personal level. "If I may, I have a question."

"Yes, Captain?"

"Why did you send an entire starship to pick up these supplies, Admiral Der'on?"

"I'm glad you asked that question. The supplies you are carrying are too important to be carried by anything less than a starship. I'm afraid that's all the information I can provide you with over such a non-secure frequency. But I can assure you, your favor to us will be rewarded upon your return."

The occupants of the bridge glanced at one another, and Spock's eyebrow once again took its place high on his forehead. "Interesting," he muttered.

"Well, then, Admiral, we will do our best to deliver these supplies safely," Kirk said, and the Admiral signed off. "Uhura, send a security team down to guard the supplies. Spock, make sure they get there. I suddenly feel like I'm carrying explosives."

"In a way, sir," Spock informed him lightly, entering the turbolift, "you are."

* * *

Phiora sat on her bed with her head against the wall, appreciating the cool effect it provided. Unfortunately her body heat would occupy that patch of wall and she would have to scoot forwards a little, starting the cycle all over again. At this point she was almost on the very end of her bed.

Then the wall communicator bleeped to life.

"Security needed in the cargo bay," Uhura's voice exploded into the room, causing Phiora to let out a dry sob and place a pillow around her head.

She regained control of her mind and relaxed.

A nanosecond later, a thankfully soft beep informed her someone was at her door. She lifted her head from her pillow and looked around at the standard-issue clock beside her bed.

What she thought was a nanosecond was actually a full four hours.

"Come in," she said, her voice hoarse.

She was surprised to see Commander Spock enter the room gracefully, taking into account the lack of lights and cooler temperature. He bowed his head slightly her direction.

"The captain requested for me to confirm you are in good health."

Phiora let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you for being a Vulcan," she murmured groggily. She had prepared herself for an onslaught of thoughts, but came to find that Spock was actually _blocking_ his thoughts. Whether it was to protect her she wasn't sure, but she was grateful nonetheless.

Spock was confused. "I find the statement questionable due to my being only half-Vulcan."

"Do you talk to everyone like that?"

Spock's eyes drifted away as if he were mentally rewinding and replaying what he just said. "No," he said finally. "Not always."

Phiora removed half of her face from the pillow so she could speak clearer. "If I were Captain Kirk, how would you have said that to me?"

The commander shifted. "I would have said...'But I am only half-Vulcan.'"

The lieutenant's eyelids became visibly heavier. "Then you should talk to me more often...like you talk to him." She smiled, and there was a lengthy silence during which Spock's growing uneasiness went unnoticed to Phiora. "You can tell Jim I'm fine," she said, half unconscious.

Her breathing evened out, and with a sharp exhalation Spock realized she'd finally fallen asleep. He turned to leave, but hesitated when he realized she was sleeping sitting up and her head resting on a pillow she was hugging.

He really didn't want to do it. He _really_ did not want to do it. But it was the kind thing to do.

With a resigned huff, he approached her bed, took an extra blanket, and using that as his gloves, held her head carefully to prevent it from hitting the bed as he cautiously tilted her onto her side. Once he determined the lieutenant wasn't in any danger of falling, he haphazardly placed the blanket over her, then left as quick as his legs could muster.

He only did it so she wouldn't fall over and wake up.

Sure he did.


	6. Set Phasers to MindFuck

**I was starting to wonder why I haven't used a swear-word yet. They're quite literally my favorite part of the English language.

* * *

**

**_Six:_  
Set Phasers to Mind-Fuck**

Kirk was the first to notice Spock was a little off. The half-Vulcan's chess games were lacking their usual intensity, and whenever he occupied the bridge, the slightest unexpected _beep_ from the computer at the science station caused an elegant eyebrow to shoot up, which the captain just _knew_ in his gut was the Vulcan way of being startled.

He contemplated sending him down to the sickbay again—well, he'd have a reason this time—but since Spock showed no sign of injury or mental incompetence, the best that trip would do would be to in fact cause Bones to have a wrath stroke. The doctor and Kirk were very close, and in said closeness they could tell when the other was about to lose their cool. Kirk knew Bones, Kirk knew Bones's pet peeves, and Kirk knew Spock was Bones's key pet peeve.

Jim had no doubt in his mind that Dr. McCoy wouldn't hesitate to treat Spock if he was physically or mentally harmed, but he also knew that even a treatable yet actively bleeding gash would be pushing it a little.

The captain chuckled slightly at the mental image of Bones standing over a gash in Spock's leg, enthusiastically cursing the green shit oozing from the wound to eternal damnation.

Chekov, who was innocently manning the navigation system when his captain suddenly chuckled for apparently no reason, turned in his chair. "Keptin," he burst through the older man's thoughts with his thicker-than-freakin'-molasses Russian accent. "Ve are epproachink space debris. Ve cennot move out of ze wey een time."

Kirk nodded, still grinning at his little private amusement. "Sulu—?"

"Already ran a scan, sir, and I would suggest firing at it."

"It's like you know me," Kirk said fondly, causing a smirk to plaster itself on the pilot's face. "Go ahead and fire a phaser at its weakest setting. Shouldn't do much residual damage but should get the thing out of our way."

"Aye, sir."

* * *

Spock hadn't meditated for several hours, which, as far as he figured, was the cause for his frayed nerves. He'd managed to keep himself in check when he accidentally bumped into a crewman—ashamedly, as the apologizing crewman brushed down the arms of his science blue uniform, the thought crossed his mind more than once to simply punch the man and walk away. He'd managed get out of that situation with offense to no one but his own psyche.

As he was returning to his quarters to finally get some meditation in and pull himself together, something caught his attention. He stopped walking in the middle of the empty hallway, literally five feet away from his own door.

Honing his sense of touch, he looked at the floor. The vibration he felt was greater by mere shifts in decimal places than its normal hum, causing him to knot his eyebrows together. Why were the phasers charging...?

Before that thought even completely entered his brain, the entire ship jolted carelessly.

The next event happened so quickly that one might've missed it had they blinked.

Something firmly hit against Spock's back, causing him to tense up, whirl around, and twist the offender's arm behind their back. His hand flew up to perform his efficient neck pinch. His fingers were in place, but he froze. So did his blood—at least, that's what it felt like.

When it sunk in how close he was holding Lieutenant Phiora and how close his lips were to her ear, his consciousness went nuts. She was so close he could feel her heart rate jump several notches out of...fear? No, what _was_ that? Alarm? Shit, he couldn't pinpoint it, it was happening so fast....

_Letgoletgoletgoletgo_, his brain screamed at him, his ears suddenly engulfed in bright green flame. He complied and practically shoved her away from him, but not before he felt something sharply burn his fingers. That didn't matter. What he couldn't figure out was why in the name of the Federation he was still standing there, looking pretty much like he'd just demolished Captain Kirk's Earth home with a swift kick to the side.

Phiora's hand slowly raised to her neck, and she just as slowly turned to him, looking pretty much like she'd just witnessed him demolish Captain Kirk's Earth home with a swift kick to the side. That was her _exact_ expression.

"Mr. Spock," she murmured.

_No,_ he mentally shouted into the air. _No, stop, SHUT UP._ He turned and all but sprinted into his quarters, locking the doors behind him with a barked order and a _blip_.

He ran a trembling hand down his hair, smoothing it as if it needed it. He completely wiped his thoughts out of his mind, but not before a voice nagged, _You have absolutely lost control of your faculties if you telepathically screamed at Lieutenant Phiora to shut up. You told her to _shut up_._

Spock shut off the lights and fished for his candles, very aware his hands were still shaky. The human half of him was clearly trying to make an appearance, and he was determined to put it back. Spock would never attempt to smother it completely—it was one of the more personal things he had left to remind him of his mother.

As the half-Vulcan set up and sat down in the middle of his quarters, he emptied the rest of his mind.

_I am in control of my emotions_.

* * *

Phiora had been left to gape at Spock's door, her hand at the crook where her shoulder and neck met. As hard as she tried, she could not assess the situation, and that familiar migraine was starting to reappear.

A rather snappy demand had been flung her way as the science officer retreated. _No...no, stop, SHUT UP_. Phiora frowned as she tried to determine the cause for such an uncharacteristic thought. Then it occurred to her.

While Onofrians were "standard" telepaths, Vulcans were touch-telepaths. Something had just fired off each of their telepathic abilities, and something bordering on a chemical reaction had resulted.

A chemical—

Phiora looked down to the floor and her mind was effectively blown. A bright blue spark was fizzling out at her feet.

A _spark_.

She would have laughed, but the sudden feeling of wanting to vomit from the pain in her head stifled that urge.


	7. An Insult for Injury

**_Seven:_  
An Insult for Injury**

The next morning Phiora woke up to the frightened realization that she was late to report for work. Then she remembered she was on sick leave and didn't technically have to wake up for another two hours. Thinking she was never going to get back to sleep, she hugged her pillow under her chin—she went to sleep on her side or back always to wake up on her stomach—and stared at her clock.

She was cursing her internal alarm clock and quietly grumbling aloud about it when she fell asleep again.

While her first dream was about Onofrian trees, this dream was about her mother's face, her mother's voice, her mother's thoughts...how she missed them, though she had encountered none of those since she was a young girl....

It was one of the surprisingly few occasions when Phiora cried in her sleep.

* * *

Spock was noticeably better that day around 1200 hours.

"Aha," Kirk chuckled as the half-Vulcan took a seat across from him in the mess. None of them were eating since it wasn't _quite_ time for lunch yet, so the captain was idly shuffling a deck of round playing cards to keep him occupied. "Nothing a few hours of good old-fashioned sleep can't fix, huh, Spock?"

"I do not understand what you're referring to, Captain."

"Jim. And I'm 'referring' to the fact that you're a lot less jumpy today than you were yesterday."

Spock's eyebrow ascended. "How did you detect my unease, Ca—Jim?"

Kirk tapped the deck on the table. "Well, for one, whenever there was an unanticipated noise you'd lose five years off of your life. It's a wonder by now that you don't look more like your livelier counterpart."

Spock's amused eyes narrowed. "That's quite an over-exaggeration, isn't it?"

"That's what makes it funny." He continued shuffling the cards. "Seriously, though, you better now? Was rest all you needed?"

"I am afraid I require meditation, however, I do not anticipate having the opportunity to do so today. The sleep cycle has certainly given me a quantity of temporary reprieve."

Kirk watched him with concerned eyes. "That's good, I guess," he said distractedly. "Do you need—"

"No."

"It's like you know me," Kirk grinned, running through a cloud of déjà-vu. Suddenly the young captain narrowed his eyes, echoing Spock's earlier gesture. He remembered something he heard a few weeks ago. "You know, I find it surprising that despite having been allies and neighboring planets, there have been no Vulcan/Onofrian relationships...ever."

This caused Spock to raise an eyebrow and tilt his head, trying and failing to read what was happening. "I beg your pardon?"

"You didn't know that? Well, I just find it interesting."

Kirk couldn't decipher the expression Spock was giving him. "How are you so sure it has never happened?"

"Come on, you know Onofrio has census-takers in every city on the planet. The number of them per city depends upon the size of the city." Kirk looked at his cards and performed an impressive shuffling trick. "Why do you suppose an Onofrian and a Vulcan have never been together?"

Spock regarded the question, completely missing the startled look on Kirk's face when he looked back up. "I believe it is a simple matter of configuration. It is well-known that an Onofrian cannot control their emotions any more than a human can. Perhaps more so. The concept of a citizen of Onofrio somehow becoming mates with a Vulcan is...illogical. Their lack of self-control would unwittingly be the end of the relationship as the Vulcan would more than likely find this weakness childish and unfocused. Quite honestly, I cannot envision a relationship occurring between an Onofrian and any other species but Onofrian."

Jim suddenly stiffened and his nostrils flared slightly, the way they usually did when he said something he immediately wished he didn't say. His eyes flickered so fast to a point over Spock's head that the action was almost missed. Yet it wasn't, and Spock knew.

The half-Vulcan's eyes widened slightly as he instantly stood and rapidly departed, murmuring something about him being needed somewhere else.

Jim was left to watch Phiora uncomfortably. "Shit, Phiora...."

"No, that's..." she cut him off, clenching her fists and tears welling up in her eyes. "That's true."

"No it's not," Kirk said firmly, standing and placing the cards on the table.

Phiora shook her head. "It is. He's right. We've never been with any other species. There are no half-breeds on Onofrio because we can't handle it."

As she said this, Kirk berated himself for asking Spock the question at all, if not somewhere more private. "Phiora, you are the most level-headed Onofrian I have ever known. In fact, I think all Onofrians nowadays are in way better control of their emotions. I mean, look at you right now. If you were one of the earlier ones, do you think you'd be able to stand here and talk to me?"

The lieutenant didn't meet her friend's eyes, but only because she knew that if she did, she'd probably start bawling because he cared.

"Spock didn't mean what he said the way he said it," Jim continued, crossing his arms. "I don't even know why he said it. He's half human. Do you—"

"No, please don't talk to him about it," Phiora said quickly, holding up a hand. "I think I'm okay now. I just...it took me by surprise."

Once she had assured Jim enough, she left the mess, and he sat back down, sighing heavily. He cursed nature for the overload of imbalance and hoped the upcoming delivery to California would go...a _lot_ smoother than the delivery he just witnessed.


	8. The Stranger Thing to Do

**This chapter is pretty freakin' long. Hopefully this means the chapters after this will be longer too since I have almost every general detail planned out for this entire story.

* * *

**

**_Eight:_  
The Stranger Thing to Do**

"Aye, sir, ye can expect the _Enterprise_ tae dock within the hour," Scotty's fairly strong Scottish accent assured the young captain through the chair's com. "I sealed the scratch on the engine, an' I reckon it'll hold til' we stop."

Kirk and Spock exchanged a look of minor concern. "Has it gotten any worse, Scotty?"

"Ah, no," the Chief Engineer said confidently. "I seem tae be 'avin' a rough time figurin' where it came from though. 'T any rate, gettin' those items down tae Earth will give me more than enough time tae fix it."

"Good job, Mr. Scott. Kirk out." He turned to his First Officer standing beside him, who seemed distracted. "What's on your mind, Spock?"

"My intention was not to insult the lieutenant," he answered quietly. "I do not understand why I articulated such an ignorant and hurtful comment."

Kirk stood up and patted Spock on the shoulder firmly, making the gesture fleeting so he didn't offend him too much. "Come on, Spock, that was a few hours ago. I'm sure she's over it by now. Plus, I mean...your wires and gears are all out of alignment right now. It was a slip of the tongue." He caught the raised eyebrow and cleared his throat. "It was a...long-winded slip of the tongue...that felt like it kept assaulting over and over. Okay, so you made a mistake. That," he added, jabbing his finger in the air close to Spock's chest, "is a testament to your human half, my friend."

Spock suddenly seemed horrified. "Do you expect that statement to placate me in any way, Captain?"

Kirk wrinkled his nose in an almost-grimace. "No. It was supposed to help _me_." He walked away, but not before adding, "It didn't work."

* * *

Phiora wasn't sure when or how she ended up in Spock's quarters that evening, but her next conscious thought was how warm and just...foreign it seemed. She hadn't been knocked out or kidnapped, or even brought in against her will, but her head hurt so much she blanked out for a moment. A few seconds more of scrutinizing her surroundings snapped it all back into place. Spock had called her down for some reason. He wouldn't say why.

"I am pleased about your decision to accept my offer, Lieutenant," Spock was saying, standing from his desk and approaching her, keeping a respectful distance and holding his hands behind his back.

Phiora blinked. "I don't even know what your offer is," she said, not expecting her voice to come out so quiet and rough, like she'd been screaming all day. Despite the volume of it, she'd managed to keep it detached. She didn't want the man who'd just a few hours ago thrown several knives blindly at her to know that she hadn't meticulously thought about his request to speak with her privately.

"Of course. I will explain," Spock continued, tilting his head down slightly. "If you will permit me, I would like to perform a mind-meld."

For some reason, the exasperated _Oh dear god_ that passed across Phiora's mind was not what she expected to cross through her mind. "Why? Sir," she quickly topped her sentence off.

The half-Vulcan obviously intended for her to ask that. "Earlier in the day I offended you, which was not my aim. I would like to perform a mind-meld to help withdraw any hurt you are feeling as a result...and to apologize."

Phiora fought the urge to seem standoffish. He wanted to apologize, which was great, but to assume she still felt shitty about it—which she did, but that's beside the point—and that she'd want _him_ to be the one to remove the pain....

She winced at the wording of that thought, which apparently gave Spock cause to raise an eyebrow curiously. She figured it was her hormones that made her want to punch him in the face because of that eyebrow.

"Mr. Spock, I'm not sure if it's even safe for a Vulcan to dig into the mind of an Onofrian," she informed him. "For either of us," she added almost as an afterthought.

"Fortunately, I do have comprehension with the actuality that the process is completely safe for both parties," Spock said patiently. "I am only waiting on your permission." He seemed to sense her further unease. "The only thing I am requiring myself to do is to help you focus your emotions away from negativity. I will stay out of any parts of your mind you do not wish me to enter or view, provided you close those parts off to me, and I will also respect your possession of these emotions."

Phiora took that to mean that he was just going to straighten her mind out and not touch anything else or manipulate anything. "Aren't mind-melds...a little more intimate, though?"

His expression did not change, but his eyes showed a flicker of amusement. "Normally, yes, however, I too intend to close off any part of my psyche that isn't necessary for this procedure."

_You shouldn_'_t take advantage of your ability to do that,_ Phiora thought absently. She felt like she was missing one more reassurance, but unprovoked tears were lumping in her throat, and she nodded. "Go ahead," she said, gesturing.

Spock noticed the sudden plummet in her mood, and he very carefully stepped closer to her. He placed the fingers of one hand on her meld points, and placed the other one unnecessarily on the other side of her face, almost holding it, which surprised her.

"Are you prepared?" he asked calmly. When she nodded, he closed his eyes for a moment, getting his own mind prepared. Phiora almost chuckled at the thought of a tiny version of Spock running around and making sure all the proper windows and doors were closed and locked. He opened his eyes, and the urge to chuckle was quickly stifled. It was like he had shut off all _life_ in him. She got the impression just then that he was operating only on basic living functions and whatever knowledge he needed to do this favor.

"My mind to your mind," he murmured, and didn't mean it.

Spock's presence in her head was chilly—not like ice, but like the underside of a pillow or a section of a control panel that hadn't been touched for a while. After a few seconds it was familiar enough. She could hear him moving around, but couldn't quite process it or see it. It was a similar sensation to the one someone experiences when they're just awake enough to take in their surroundings, yet not awake enough to tell that it isn't a dream.

'_What are you doing?_' Phiora asked. Outside of the meld, both of their lips formed the words.

'_I am only doing what I informed you I would be doing_.'

A few moments passed. '_If you need any help from me_..._._'

'_It is not required that you speak to me,_' he said. As rough as that should have sounded, it didn't strike Phiora in any way, because she knew the real meaning behind the statement. She knew it as if she had said it herself.

'_Well_..._unless it distracts you_..._._'

'_It does not._'

'_Then_..._I_'_m kinda not used to having someone in my head._'

She only saw the grin as if she was imagining it, but the distant physical warmth from that smile was the warmth she was giving off. It was her grin even though it was Spock's.

'_You are a telepath. Is it not something of a natural occurrence?_'

'_Yes, but_..._I meant_..._I_'_m not used to having an actual_...person..._in my head. And I_'_m not used to them knowing it._'

She got the notion of him sorting through some kind of file cabinet, then reaching into the air, gathering pieces of emotion that were leisurely floating around.

'_Either thought is sound,_' Spock commented on the visualization, '_however, I am more accurately executing the latter action._'

Phiora then imagined Spock—carrying an armful of colorful nylon squares—scrutinizing the "floor" of her mind, then neatly laying some down in a sort of order she couldn't place.

'_You have an impressive amount of negative emotions,_' Spock said almost as if he knew he couldn't think that thought in private but decided to risk it anyway.

'_It_'_s because of something we have in common,_' Phiora divulged calmly. '_My mother died. But mine died when I was a young girl._'

That was all she said, and that was what Spock accepted. He had been spreading some squares out in the air, and they took on a controlled pattern of movement. When he got down to the last one, he seemed to examine it, then place it in the furthest area of Phiora's mind.

'_I have finished. Pulling out of this particular meld will be a bit jarring, so be prepared._'

'_Sure, whenever you_'_re ready._'

She suddenly got the sensation of a large pole being pulled out of her skull minus the pain. Spock had lowered his hands and was watching her expectantly.

"What is your current status?" he asked mechanically.

Phiora considered, and found herself not angry, hurt, or anything else. This made her happy, and that's what she felt. "Good. I feel good. Thank you, Mr. Spock."

He tilted his head and closed his eyes. After a second passed he opened them again, and Phiora noticed with another bump to her spirits that he seemed to turn everything back on.

"Thank you," she said again.

* * *

"Captain, we have Admiral Der'on hailing us," Uhura said suddenly.

Kirk frowned. "We just docked. Ask him if it can wait."

"He says 'Not really.'"

The captain grinned despite the strangeness of the situation and shook his head. "Open up, Lieutenant. The frequency; open the...frequency," he added hastily after Uhura threw him a _very _nasty look. He cleared his throat and pressed a button. "This is the captain."

"Captain Kirk, may I come aboard for a few moments of your time?"

The bridge crew gave each other looks of confusion and curiosity. Kirk kept his grounded appearance.

"May I ask why, sir?"

"I would like to explain to you just what exactly it is you're carrying."

_That_ caused Jim to shift a bit. "Um...alright, sure. I'll get the transporter set up." He signed off and sighed. "Mr. Sulu, watch the um...the...thing. This. Watch her," he said, gesturing to the general bridge area.

"Aye, sir," Sulu acknowledged as his captain disappeared by way of turbolift.

Several minutes later found Captain Kirk face-to-face with Admiral Der'on, who looked to Jim to have been a 20th-century lumberjack at some time in his life. The admiral was pretty much nothing but muscle, with jet black hair that betrayed the man's age only at his temples. Yet his presence was comforting, which calmed the young captain down considerably.

"I apologize for being so aloof about this whole thing," Admiral Der'on said, stepping off of the platform and firmly shaking Kirk's hand. His deep blue eyes sparkled in a friendly manner. "I think you'll understand why after I get right to the point."

"Then by all means," Jim said, turning when he heard the door open and saw Spock enter the room. "Oh, Admiral Der'on, this is science officer Spock. Also my First Officer, so his attendance is relevant."

No one caught the fact that Spock barely seemed to notice where he was, let alone who was standing in front of him. He did tilt his head in acknowledgement, however, and Kirk and Der'on were none the wiser.

"Alright. Like I said, I have to get right to the point. Those supplies you're carrying are parts for a new weapon Starfleet has developed. It's a purely defensive weapon, but we believe that if an entire fleet of Klingon ships were to suddenly attack the carrier of this weapon, said fleet would be incapacitated within five seconds after activating it."

The silence in the transporter room was so thick it was almost palpable. Spock seemed to come back.

"Defensive weapon, sir?"

"Entirely. Defensive and reflective." He regarded Kirk with a small air of pride. "Captain Kirk, if you will permit, the reward I mentioned earlier is for the _Enterprise_ to be the first starship to house this new development."

Kirk appeared to think he and Spock were the only other men in the room. The low whistle attached to a Scottish quip reminded him otherwise.


	9. The Rumblings of Thunder

_**Nine:  
**_**The Rumblings of Thunder**

Jim clapped Bones on the shoulder, admiring the flashing colored strobe lights and dance music that was so intense he could literally feel the bass in his chest. "You know what, Bones my man?" He was briefly distracted by an attractive young blonde sashaying past him. "I think you're a closeted me."

Bones threw his younger friend a highly affronted look. "Jesus, Jim, you really go for the jugular for no good reason, don't you?"

The entire crew of the _Enterprise_ was on a shore leave of sorts while Starfleet prepped and briefed them on the new weapon that was currently being installed. This was to be done in sections, but since it was already late, the rest of that night was shore leave for everyone. First thing in the morning, however, the mechanics and engineers were to attend a meeting informing them of all they needed to know in order to help with the installation and management, as well as the basics of the other areas for practical reasons. Each meeting could take days, especially since some sections overlapped and tests and training had to be administered.

Luckily for Jim, San Francisco was a big city.

Currently, Jim and Bones were at a little bar the doctor had suggested, and much to the captain's surprise, it did not seem like the type of space his CMO would ever be caught dead occupying. It was more his own type.

"Drinks are on me, my brotha'," Kirk piped up as the duo sat at the bar. "In celebration of our...whatever we just got."

Bones shook his head. "It just seems a little weird to me. Something's off about the whole thing. That Admiral Der'on fella...I don't know what to make of him."

Jim frowned. "Oh, come on. You're being paranoid. Don't you think I would have felt it if something was 'off' about him?"

The look on the doctor's face clearly said, "I can say 'hell no to that' and still carry a good conscience, so if you want me to, I will."

The bartender—another attractive young blonde—came up to the two men, her long, devil-like tail making flirtatious gestures.

"What can I get you boys?"

"I'll get a Saurian brandy," Bones said, narrowing his eyes at the tail.

Jim broke out the charming smile. "I'll get something that looks like you," he purred, winking at the bartender.

"I'm afraid I'm the only one that looks like me here," she replied, leaning against the bar.

Bones rolled his eyes.

"That's okay—one of you is certainly all I can handle."

"Dammit, Jim, just order already."

The captain nodded but didn't take his eyes off of his new fascination. "Alright. I'll have a 'Dancing Flame' and two shots of Terran whiskey," he murmured. "Please."

Once the girl went off to get the drinks, Bones rested his chin on his hand, glaring at Kirk in what no longer seemed to be frustration, but complete loss of hope and motivation. "I have totally given up my futile efforts of picking your brain, Jim."

"That's probably for the best, Bones. That is probably for the best."

* * *

It only took Jim's three drinks to get him to that comfortably buzzed area, and two brandies for McCoy. It was then that the latter convinced the former that the buzzed area was sufficient enough for the evening, and they set out to walk back to the Starfleet Base Dormitories. It was like a hotel, but only for Starfleet members, and it had direct access to the Academy campus should any need arise.

"Hey, Bones," Kirk said suddenly, not completely shit-faced, yet still drunk enough to almost run into a telesign post. "What was that bar called?"

The CMO made a low processing sound. "Amberdisco? No...'A' something...then 'D'...." He threw his head back, thinking loudly. "I might've been And."

Jim found this impeccably hilarious. "_And_?! What a stupid name for a bar."

"It's mostly a club though, Jim."

"Yeah, whatever. It's fun. We should drag Spock there sometime during this...this break."

"I would rather take a bullet to the gonads."

Kirk shook his head, scoffing. "Naw. That's silly and stupid and painful." He jumped, getting a sudden idea. "We could bring Spock and Phiora. They could dance, and...what the hell am I saying? Spock doesn't _dance_."

Bones scrutinized the statement though. "Are you really trying to set them up together?" When the other man nodded, he sighed. "What makes you think they're so good for each other?"

"Well, for one...they both know what it's like to lose a mother." The doctor made to ask about that, but Kirk wanted none of it. "Also, I think they could balance each other out."

"There's too much of an imbalance between them, Jim," Bones observed.

There was a silence, but it seemed like Kirk was about to say something, but forgot it.

"Yeah, whatever," he repeated.

* * *

Phiora sighed and opened the video communicator issued to her room. She dialed a familiar number, mentally hoping she'd get an answer. After a few beeps, she was greeted by two male faces that were identical to each other in every respect.

"Phiora!" they said in unison.

The lieutenant smiled brightly. "Hello, Vigozielli. Hi Ricograzi."

The twin on Phiora's left waved while the one on her right said, "You know, the old man's been talking nonstop about you lately. What've you been up to?"

"Oh, this and that. I still haven't gotten the communications position I want."

"Give it time," the left twin said.

"Vigo's right; just give it time. Jim's a cool guy."

Suddenly, a face that looked like an older version of the twins' faces burst forth between them. "_Mi beya_?!" he nearly shrieked. "Ah, Phiora!" He started rattling off in Onofrian, to which Phiora chuckled.

"Hello, daddy. I miss you."

There was a brief knock at her door, and a muffled, very lightly slurred, "Tell your family I say hi," was loudly directed at her.

Phiora turned back to the vidcom. "Jim says hi. Where's Uncle Getsi'noro?"

"He's taking a nap, the lazy bum," Ricograzi said, pulling a playfully disgusted face.

Phiora, her father, and her older brothers spent the better half of an entire hour just catching up, and after thirty minutes, another face seemingly unrelated to the other three appeared.

"Tiro Getsi'noro," Phiora said softly, smiling warmly. "How are you?"

"The better question and the only question I'm interested in is 'How are _you_,' my beautiful niece?"

"I'm fine." She seemed to think about what she was going to say. "I had a dream about Mother."

There was a pause that was neither uncomfortable or awkward. It was more of a sad pause. Each of the twins watched a different man's face. Phiora kept her eyes on her uncle.

"Gia'vena was always in someone's dreams," her father said at length. "Always. Though it's been a long time since she left us, it still feels like it happened just the other day, or last month, or even last year."

"Zielli had a dream about her last week," Getsi'noro told Phiora, though he was watching his brother-in-law. "He came up to me and said, 'I saw your sister's face so clearly....'"

The last half hour was spent reminiscing about Phiora and the twins' mother, like all of their calls usually are. It left every one of them feeling like hell when the call was over, but whenever they didn't talk about it, their conversations seemed empty.

So when Phiora said goodbye to her family and shut off the vidcom, the fairly large absence of grief surprised her.

* * *

The next morning a refreshed Phiora took a walk around the Base Dorm campus, finding solitude in the cloudless day. She couldn't quite say she felt happy, but she did feel strangely better than she probably should have.

The sight of Spock sitting on a blanket in the grass with what appeared to be a little less than several thousand papers and books surrounding him like a moat gave her pause. For some reason, she didn't expect to see him in broad daylight, much less sitting on the ground, protected by a blanket or not.

Apparently he wasn't aware she was standing there, because she heard a brief '..._anomaly beyond the partition of the fourth dimension substantiated by reduced compulsion of the flux—_'

"That sounds like the new Abe Gates novel," she said without thinking.

Spock wasn't startled, but he did seem surprised. "Oh...Lieutenant, I didn't see you there. I was so immersed in these studies I didn't think to mediate my thought patterns."

Phiora shrugged, her hands in her coat pockets. "Nothing to be sorry about."

For a moment Spock returned to the book directly in front of him, a barrier around his thoughts. Then he looked up again. "I do not believe there is any citation regarding time travel in the latest Abe Gates novel."

Phiora grinned. "It was a bad joke." There was a few empty seconds that passed. "I guess I'll get out of your way then," she said, turning to continue her walk.

She got ten steps away before she stopped and turned around again. Spock was engrossed in the plethora of words around him. Something was bothering her. She frowned, then approached him again.

"Are you alright?"

"I am perfectly healthy both physically and psychologically, Lieutenant," he said immediately, though not sounding as cold as he could have sounded. "Why do you ask?"

"Well...because you seem a little...distant."

"As opposed to what proximity?"

Phiora shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know," she said under her breath. _I kind of hoped you_'_d stop me from walking away. You know_..._like a friendly person_. "It's just that yesterday, you seemed a little more...I don't know the word for it. More involved."

She couldn't place what just happened behind his eyes. He stood up.

"If you are receiving any semblance of evasion, I apologize. That is not my objective."

"That's weird; isn't that what you said yesterday about insulting me?"

"It is, and it was just as genuine as it is at this time. I was simply caught up in my reading."

There was a pause in which Phiora considered the commander with a manner of apprehension. Then she nodded and sighed. "Sorry. It seems important so...I'll leave you to it."

Spock bowed his head and resumed his spot on the blanket. Phiora nodded absently and continued her walk.

* * *

Phiora spent the rest of the day with Jim, which to any other person would have seemed awkward given their ranks, but it didn't bother them any. For the day, they weren't Captain Kirk and Lieutenant Phiora; they were just Jim and Phiora.

In the evening when they visited a small bar after much begging from Jim, Phiora found herself playing rescuer to a man who just does not know how to say no to a beautiful woman, regardless of her appearance otherwise. In one instance, Phiora turned to find him vigorously flirting with a woman who quite was quite blatantly of the Mantisor race—a race of people whose females _eat_ their mates after the males have basically served their purpose.

Phiora had to pretend she was Jim's girlfriend in order to drag him away. And as expected, Jim was dragged away kicking and screaming.

"That was mean," he observed as they walked back to the Base Dorms. The sun hadn't completely set yet, but there had been an unspoken mutual complaint of exhaustion between the friends.

Phiora grinned. "It would've been meaner to let her make you into filet mignon," she pointed out. "But if getting her to bed is _that_ important to you...."

They both stopped walking when they saw, to their utter amazement, that Spock was still on that blanket. Granted, the assemblage of papers and books around him was different. But he was still there. And he was still completely engulfed in them.

"You're so full of shit," Jim laughed to Spock, giving Phiora an affectionate pat on the shoulder before walking back into the building. His laughs were heard all the way there.

Phiora remained. The majority of the sky was dark when Spock finally looked up. "Is there something you needed, Lieutenant?"

"You're still sitting there...." For some seriously bizarre reason, this concept utterly offended her. She watched as the half-Vulcan stood. "You're in the same spot you were in this morning...."

Spock was the only one who noticed that while his backdrop was night, behind Phiora the sun was still in the stages of setting. "That is true...though I am not sure I understand how my whereabouts concern you."

"See; right there!" Phiora suddenly burst out. Spock lifted an eyebrow. "Right there. You're being disconnected. One could almost say you're being mean."

"Your claims are causing me some confusion, Lieutenant."

"You seemed to care yesterday. Now you don't."

"To care would be to assert some sort of emotion."

"Okay, but you seemed like you could be a friend."

"Friends are the announcement of emotions in sentient form."

"Jim was right; you are full of shit," Phiora retorted. She immediately regretted saying that. "I'm sorry, sir. I forgot my rank for a moment. But my point still stands...you definitely felt friendly towards me yesterday. I'm not saying you were jumping up and down and begging to be my best friend, but you were willing to apologize for hurting my feelings."

Spock thankfully dropped the unintended outburst and folded his arms across his chest, pondering what she just said. She didn't see what he said next barreling towards her at light-speed.

"I admit there were some 'friendly' emotions intended for you at the time, but whatever feelings were there are now gone."

* * *

**Real quick, _mi beya_ is Onofrian for "my beautiful" and Tiro is Onofrian for "Uncle."**


	10. Inebriate

**A quick answer to a question posed to me: no, the Onofrians aren't an actual Trek race. I created it.**

**

* * *

_Ten:_  
Inebriate**

Phiora gaped at him like a fish. "They're 'gone'?" She only vaguely noticed the sun had gone completely down. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean precisely what I said," he said calmly, taking a few steps towards her.

"There is always..._some_ kernel of emotional connection between two people after a mind-meld."

Phiora had no clue the flash she saw in Spock's eyes was his distress of her bringing that up.

"You are correct," he replied coolly. "There was an undoubtedly small 'emotional connection,' which I later disposed of—not for the purpose of impairing you, but for the sake of sustaining my psychological stability. I was able to meditate thoroughly last night and today within my reading, which then returned me to my mental balance."

An incredulous silence befell Phiora. "What?"

"Whatever it is you assumed I was experiencing could correctly be filed under the classification of an emotion, thus rendering your anticipation illogical," Spock said almost icily, his hands behind his back. "Perhaps you did not comprehend that I purely withheld myself from equilibrium for the reason that I found it logical and less time-consuming to erase any emotion I gained from the meld along with the...agitation I was experiencing."

Phiora narrowed her eyes. "You...did the meld first...so you could then just put those feelings in the trash along with your other craziness?"

Spock raised an eyebrow and inclined his head. "That is an unsophisticated yet fitting analogy, Lieutenant. Though I have motive to dispute the existence of any psychosis of which you may be referring."

There was a long pause. Phiora watched him. His dark eyes were the same. His face was the same. His posture was the same, though it seemed faintly more rigid. Even the slender eyebrow he lifted at her silence was the same.

_What about_ my _emotional _"_garbage?_"_ And that_..._deeper thing_..._._

Had she just read him wrong?

...Apparently so.

"Okay," she murmured, casting her eyes downwards in a gesture of embarrassment and hurt. "Okay. That...makes sense." She started to back out of the area towards the Dorms, angrily willing herself to take a deep breath. "Sorry to have...disturbed you."

"It is no matter."

Phiora paused and watched him again. "No, I guess it isn't, is it?" she shot at him through a dryly observant voice.

She left so fast she missed the slight wince in Spock's eyes.

* * *

The irony wasn't lost on Phiora. Spock gathering her emotions and putting them back where they came from, only to have him fuck them up again. She wondered if he had always been an ass...then she remembered Jim mentioning something about wanting to punch him in the face...and _boy_ did that sound good right about now.

No, she forced herself to digress as she watched time crawl by at an infuriating pace. She wanted to be friends with her commanding officer, which was a stupid idea to begin with, but add him being part Vulcan to that equation....

Though that didn't make much sense, did it? She was good friends with her other, higher commanding officer.

Her mind was utterly ransacked. The thought of those carefully placed nylon squares being ruined again by the person who rearranged them actually made her laugh. And that was not the reaction she expected.

Then Phiora knew what she needed. Though it contradicted almost everything that happened that day, she showed up at Jim's door and knocked roughly.

Of course, the captain was still awake. He answered the door, took a minute to process who was standing there, then seemed confused and very concerned.

"You look like someone set fire to your brain," he said bluntly.

She could have kissed him then. "Let's get drunk."

* * *

She _did_ kiss him a few times as they went bar-hopping that night, which quickly spread over to early morning. She found she liked kissing him, but after a while—more around the time their drunkenness was turning into the need to hurl like no other—she realized kissing him was like kissing any of her brothers. Not that she'd ever kissed Vigo or Rico, but if she had, that's probably what it would feel like.

Jim must have felt like he was kissing his sister, because by the time the sun came up, he refused to exist within ten feet of her. And that set fine by Phiora.

They were arranged haphazardly in Jim's quarters by sunrise. Phiora was on the bed with her eyes closed, willing her nausea away, and Jim was on the other side of the room, sitting pathetically under the window.

"You know," he almost whispered, yet Phiora could hear it quite fine, "you're the only woman I've ever gotten drunk with and not slept with."

"And it's gonna stay that way," she assured him. He laughed, then winced. Any sort of emotion was physically painful, which was alright as far as Phiora was concerned. Wasn't that her whole plan?

Yes. Yes it was.

There was a long stretch of silence between the friends, and each one was starting to think the other went to sleep. Jim was the one to break the silence again.

"Do you think he's still sitting on that goddamn blanket?"

Ouch. Phiora's laugh turned into a frustrated growl. Her eyes remained closed. "I don't know. He can just...." There wasn't a single atom in her body that would let her finish that sentence. "He can just whatever."

Jim chuckled, resting the back of his head against the wall behind him. "I'm not going to ask what the hell's going on between you guys."

"Much appreciated."

After another pause, Phiora felt the bed move and the presence of a face inches away from hers.

_The clock says cuddle time_.

Phiora opened her eyes and threw Jim a weird look. "Do you ask Doctor McCoy to cuddle with you after you guys get drunk?"

"Sometimes," Jim answered with a straight face, though it was obvious he was kidding.

There was one other time Jim and Phiora had ever cuddled, and that was after a gratuitous meltdown she had when they were teenagers. She missed her mom, and he was there, and he cared—still had an on-again, off-again crush on her—and sat under a tree, and he just held her.

Somehow, those memories plus everything that happened the previous night brought on a wave of sadness, and she buried her face in Jim's chest and just...cried. And because he knew that was coming—the reason why he brought up cuddling in the first place—he just held her.


	11. The Jugular

**This is a _wtf...the hell is happening?!_ kind of chapter. Also, for some reason I keep wanting to pronounce the chapter "The Joogyooler" instead of the correct "The Jugyooler." I am fail.  
**

* * *

**_Eleven:_  
The Jugular**

Spock felt like a jerk.

That was something he of course would never admit to anyone. But he did. He felt like a jerk. He hadn't seen Lieutenant Phiora at all the next day...or Captain Kirk, for that matter. Not that he had been looking. It was just something he noticed.

He wasn't sure why, but his desire to see her again coincided with his desire _not_ to see her again...he supposed the more mysterious area of that thought was why he _wanted_ to see her. To apologize?

...What the hell? It would be _illogical_ for her to accept any form of apology after what he did to her.

The day of the science meeting arrived after the thoroughly Kirk-and-Phiora-less day. He was either going to see Lieutenant Phiora there, or he was going to not see her there. Either way, he told himself, life goes on. Either way it meant nothing to him.

So why in the hell, as he stood in the back of the large meeting room, did he feel like he got shot with a phaser when he spotted her sitting beside the large wall of glass panes?

She was resting her head in one hand, her attention at the front of the room and a datapad in her lap, but he could tell even from that distance that she wasn't actually paying attention at all. He also saw the little "Audio Recording" light was on.

He didn't think to look away when he thought _is she aware of her own irony?_, and that came back to bite him rather hard. She literally in slow motion turned her head his direction. Then they locked eyes.

In one fluid movement, Spock turned and quietly strode out of the room. In one fluid movement, Phiora set her datapad on her chair and followed him.

The commander sought temporary refuge in an empty room with two and a half glass walls. He used the moment he had to himself to even himself out and become about as emotional as one of the solid walls.

The brief question of "what am I doing" crossed his mind, but was quelled when he remembered he was searching for a secluded room where Phiora could talk to him.

He saw her through the glass wall first. She wasn't running or even walking quickly, which only surprised him a little. She strode through the door and calmly closed it behind her, and the thought of being in a room alone with her suddenly caused him to stop breathing.

He wasn't entirely sure it was due to fear, either.

Yeah, so much for the moment of composure.

"Mr. Spock," Phiora said quietly. "If anyone can broach the subject of irony, I'd have to say it's you."

When she spoke he noticed himself equalizing again. "Elaborate."

"Putting something back together then breaking it all over again."

"Of course; you're referring to the meld."

It was like some internal trigger was pulled. Her anger was so prominent the panes of the glass wall shook not from her voice but from the waves of emotion she was sending out unintentionally. For once, Spock did not clasp his hands behind his back and instead opted to keep them at his sides, though he did clench them into fists as Phiora barraged him with her excess of fervor.

"With all due respect," she murmured in a deathly low voice, "you were in my mind. You grabbed my feelings and arranged them accordingly, and at the time it helped, and for that I'm grateful." She was unconsciously inching closer to him, yet he stood his ground. "But you were in...my..._mind_!"

Spock threw off the weird reflex to go cross-eyed as the standard telepathic inadvertently struck him right between the eyes with a mental projectile of fury at that last word. Blocking his thoughts, he sighed inwardly. He'd hoped Phiora wasn't one of the occasional Onofrians who could dispel their intense emotions at innocent bystanders without meaning to.

"Lieutenant," Spock said softly, his voice the sound of calm and composure and his eyes falling shut, "I believe I already informed you the action was to act as an apology for insulting you so blatantly." He opened his eyes and tilted his head very slightly to one side. "Did it not serve its purpose?"

"Then sir, that was one hell of an empty apology," said Phiora, managing somehow to make "sir" the only genuine word in that sentence.

"I wouldn't say empty as much as I would say efficient."

There was an unexpected pause during which a semblance of recognition passed over Phiora's eyes like a shadow.

"Then I regret to inform you, Mr. Spock, that you have successfully mind-raped me."

The bottom of Spock's stomach dropped out without warning, and Phiora turned and left him to wonder where the hell his lungs just launched themselves. There was no doubt what this was....

This was him finally understanding that he deeply hurt someone he really, really cared about, mixed with the realization that he did, in fact, really, really care about her.

* * *

He couldn't return to the meeting. Having just been accused of mind-rape—_kae_'_at k_'_lasa_, as it were—he found nothing he could settle his own mind on except for ways to right his horrifying wrong. Idea after idea was discarded...thought after thought was stashed away. He closed himself off literally and figuratively for the next several hours. Quite a few people knocked on his door, only to be met with the automatic answer, "I cannot be disturbed."

While _kae_'_at k_'_lasa_ was a heavy crime amongst the Vulcan people, it was not punishable by authority. It was up to Vulcans themselves, be it the offender—assuming the offender had come to their senses—or an involved party, to come up with the punishment. Whatever that punishment was, it had to be carried out. Absolutely _had_ to.

Spock wasn't sure that Phiora understood the weight of what she said he did, but he wasn't going to risk it.

He had to bring her happiness. Familiarity. If he had, in fact, committed _kae_'_at k_'_lasa_, then something that brought upon positive emotions, emotions almost completely opposite of what he caused her, had to be brought upon by _him_ and him alone.

Yet he was at a loss.

A loss....

'_It_'_s because of something we have in common. My mother died. But mine died when I was a young girl._'

What about the rest of her family...?


	12. Absence of Illogics

**Decided to post another chapter today since the last one was so short and I love you all so much.**

**There is a slight Kirk/Spock implication amongst this chapter, though truthfully it's more along the lines of Kirk/Spock friendship. But still. I really couldn't help myself.**

* * *

**_Twelve:_  
Absence of Illogics**

Jim sniffed as he watched Spock approach him. He wasn't angry at his First Officer; he had no reason to be. He understood some grief was being given between the science officer and the xenolinguist, however, he didn't know details, and he didn't want to know details. He just wanted to stand beneath the awning of the Base Dorms and enjoy the rain, which randomly started almost literally two minutes ago.

He found it a little strange that he wasn't begging for details of something that could potentially be huge. He just shrugged it off as a sign of maturity. Or a damper on his matchmaking plans.

"Spock," he called suddenly, "do you know what that stuff coming down from the sky is?"

"Of course, Captain," the Vulcan called back, not making any attempt to hurry. "It is rain; caused by the release of evaporated—"

"I know what it is, you silly man. I was just checking to see if _you_ did, seeing as you're just taking your sweet little time."

Spock finally ducked under the protection from the rain and stood with his back straight, his hands folded behind him. It was as if he had no clue that he was now almost completely soaked. "I have qualms about being called 'silly', sir."

"What the hell do I have to do to get you to call me Jim, Spock?" Kirk asked exasperatedly. "And I thought Vulcans had a thing against water."

Some of the aforementioned substance dripped out of Spock's hair and off the tip of his nose. "That is accurate, however, we cannot control the weather on other planets. It is logical to accept rain as a happening that cannot be prohibited, therefore ignoring it would be illogical."

Jim grinned. "I bet you're screaming on the inside, aren't ya?"

Spock's eyebrow twitched. "I have a query...Jim," he said, taking no further notice of what his captain said. "What do you know about Lieutenant Phiora's family?"

Kirk sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and watching a bird frantically fly away, finding shelter out of the torrential downpour. "I know a lot about them. We've all kept in touch on and off for years since we were kids. My dad met Phiora's dad once on a mission, but after Dad died my mom kept in touch with them. She didn't want to lose touch with Dad's friends I guess." He paused for a moment. "It wasn't until Phiora's mom passed that we became good friends."

Spock tilted his head, curious. "You never mentioned her during the _Narada_ incident," he said carefully.

Oh. So that was what he was calling it. Perfectly detached. "Well, we only really hung out a few times within the Academy. To tell you the truth I was afraid we were growing apart since I hadn't seen her for a few years before that, but then I ran into her on the _Enterprise_ and I guess we resumed that close friendship."

"You have tried to court her," Spock said bluntly, a contrast to how he spoke of "the _Narada _incident."

Jim laughed suddenly, wondering how he knew that. "Yeah, I have. I dunno...I guess I thought it was a brilliant plan to try and get into her pants one time when we were teenagers. Of course her dad thought otherwise and set my ass straight."

If he didn't know better, he could've sworn Spock bristled a little at that. But he blinked and the half-Vulcan was standing as he had been before. Just his imagination.

"Anyway, why did you ask me about her family?"

Spock raised his head slightly, blinking a raindrop off of his eyelash in a composed manner. "I have cause to express regret to the lieutenant, and I wish to do so by arranging a reunion."

Jim smiled. "That would definitely do it, Spock. Phiora is so close to her family." He glanced at the Vulcan, who was gradually starting to resemble a cat that was pushed unmercifully into a tub full of water. "You need my help getting them over here?"

"Indeed," Spock answered, finally reaching up and wiping the water out of his eyes. He disregarded Jim's snickering. "May I request we do so within my quarters so as I may acquire dry garments?"

"Sure thing."

* * *

Jim attached the video communicator to the wall and booted it up as Spock disappeared into the bathroom, returning with an armful of towels.

"Oh that's right, you asked for a room without an autodryer," the captain said absently as Spock ungracefully rubbed a towel through his hair. "I don't blame you, actually, those things are pretty scary. I feel like I'm going to get sucked into them or something."

"That would be illogical," Spock said, his voice muffled as he dried off his face. "An autodryer expels air as opposed to retrieving air as you seem to think."

"Oh yeah? If it's so illogical why did you specifically ask for a room without one?"

The expression on Spock's face made Jim laugh. He turned back to the vidcom, shaking his head. He sent a typed message as opposed to calling for the mere reason that he wasn't sure what was going down at this time of evening. One of the twins—he could never for the life of him remember which one—was much like him in terms of beautiful women. Always a new one brought home. Interrupting something would be horrifying.

Jim turned to Spock to tell him what was happening, but he stopped when he noticed his First Officer was scrutinizing a small area of his dry clothes and had seemingly forgotten he was completely shirtless. Closing his mouth, Jim smirked. "Why Mr. Spock, are you trying to seduce me?"

Spock very slowly looked up and over at the captain, and though he had no expression on his face whatsoever, his eyes clearly said, "Only you would say something that utterly brainless, you idiot."

"I was merely attempting to understand why there is a small burn on the sleeve of this shirt," he said evenly. He suddenly looked away and then back to the shirt. "Ah, yes, I once held my arm over a meditation candle. However, it will suit its purpose fine until I have an opportunity to repair it," he added, throwing on the shirt, which Jim then realized was a pajama shirt of sorts. "All it requires is for the affected area to be removed and replaced with the same material."

Jim suddenly had an image in his mind of Spock sitting behind one of those 20th-century sewing machines he'd seen in textbooks, and he grinned. Then he remembered what he meant to tell him. "I sent a typed message since I remembered I don't know what they'd be doing at this time. Onofrian days are only slightly longer than Earth days."

"Indeed," Spock confirmed absently as he took a metal comb and rearranged his hair without even having to look in a mirror. "That was a logical move on your part, Jim."

"See? I'm not completely brainless," Kirk defended, vaguely referring to the look Spock seemed to throw him earlier.

He was probably right because Spock got a tiny, _tiny_ smirk on his face as if that was _exactly_ what he was thinking.

"So how did the science lecture go yesterday?"

That was when Spock stiffened and closed off what little bit of easiness he was letting through. "It was fine," he said in a clipped voice. "Very informative."

Jim wasn't facing him so he missed the sudden change in demeanor. "Oh yeah? My meeting isn't until two days from now. What is this weapon, anyway?"

"From what I understand," Spock said, forgetting about his rain-soaked pants for the moment and holding his hands together behind his back, "this weapon is, in essence, a barrier that will surround the _Enterprise_ and reflect any attack off of it and launch it directly at the attackers."

"But Der'on said it could destroy an entire Klingon fleet within seconds of turning it on."

"Incorrect. He said it could merely incapacitate such a fleet. The barrier will turn whatever energy it absorbs from the attack, turn it into counter-energy, and fire it back."

Jim just blankly stared at the other man. "What?"

"Allow me to create a scenario," Spock said patiently, his hands still behind his back and his head tilted slightly. "The _Enterprise_ is in space and a massive fleet of Klingons approach. We are, quite frankly, surrounded."

"Okay," Jim said, indicating he was following so far.

"You order Mr. Sulu to activate the weapon, and he does so. Without warning two Klingon ships fire upon us. Our weapon takes the projectile used against us, breaks down the energy used in said projectile, and wraps the _Enterprise_ in a shield of the effective energy while firing back any remaining electric impulse within a projectile that will intrinsically remove power from those two Klingon ships."

"Holy shit," Jim gasped. "That's awesome!" Something replayed in his head, however. "But wait, the effective energy? Won't that, you know..._damage_ us?"

"Negative. The effective energy will have been turned into a barrier as opposed to a projectile, therefore acting as a strong shield which gets stronger as more attacks are bombarded upon it." A twinkle of mischief within Spock's eyes surprised Jim. "A further two attacks would only result in the debilitation of the entire Klingon fleet. No one would get hurt, yet the _Enterprise_ would successfully escape."

Spock seemed to revel in the amazement of this new weapon along with Jim. "Whoa," the captain breathed, running a hand through his hair. "Sounds like any malfunction could seriously get us fucked," he added.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Yes and no. A malfunction of the barrier itself would only amount to the loss of power within the _Enterprise_, provided the malfunction consists of the barrier closing itself upon the ship. A malfunction of the barrier consisting in the improper breakdown of energy could result in an overload."

"Which would further result in...." Jim gestured, knowing there was more to it and fully expecting Spock to finish for him. He was not disappointed.

"Which would further result in the explosion of the weapon's core system, therefore taking out an entire engine."

Jim let out a low whistle. "But what're the chances of that?" He suddenly seemed hopeful. "Like, none?"

Spock smirked again. "You'll be glad to know the chances of that are approximately one-point-five-two-three-two percent to one-hundred percent."

"There was nothing approximate about that, Spock," Jim informed him just as the vidcom beeped loudly. "Oh, we have a response."

Spock walked over to stand beside the sitting captain, still having disregarded the state of his pants. "What did they say?"

"They said it's fine to call them now," Kirk said cheerfully, dialing a number on the vidcom. They waited in silence for a few moments as the vidcom beeped. Jim's silence was pretty nonchalant while Spock's silence was uncomfortable.

"Ah, Ja'mio!"

The face that suddenly appeared on the screen looked like a much older, male version of Phiora. He was very jovial at the sight of Jim, his light brown eyes sparkling with friendliness. Spock relaxed a little when those eyes remained friendly even while regarding him.

"Ja'mio, who is your friend? He looks to be a Vulcan," the man said curiously.

"Zielli, this is my friend and First Officer Spock," he said, nodding to the half-Vulcan.

Zielli looked at Spock again. "Ah, Sarek's son, yes?" When he was confirmed, he suddenly appeared sympathetic. "I've spoken briefly to the Ambassador during the ongoing construction of the new Vulcan colony. Very respectful, that man. I am so sorry about Lady Amanda," he added quietly. "As I have expressed to Ambassador Sarek, I know what it is like to lose one's wife." He kept a sad eye on Spock for a moment, then turned back to Jim. "Ja'mio, what can I do for you?"

"It's actually a request Spock made. He wants to set up a chance for the family and Phiora to meet up again here on Earth. From the number I dialed, it seems like you're closer to here than Onofrio."

"Yes, yes, that's correct. We've decided upon taking a vacation somewhere away from Onofrio. But we will gladly come to Earth to see our Phiora!"

Jim smiled warmly. "Somehow I didn't think you'd refuse."

"It will take us about three Earth days to arrive, but we will definitely be there, Ja'mio."

After a quick, light conversation that included Spock, the two parties said goodbye and signed off.

The room was quiet. Then Spock asked a question.

"He kept referring to you as 'Ja'mio.' What does that mean?"

"Ah," Jim said, blushing a little. "It's just the way they say James in their language. Kind of how John is Johann in some European countries."

"Fascinating."

* * *

Three days later found Spock getting Phiora's family settled in the large guest quarters he and Kirk literally just finished going through the process of obtaining. He had to assist them alone, since Jim was out fetching Phiora, but he found it not to be as awkward as he'd expected. In fact, he and Zielli were having a nice little conversation about planets in general when they were subsequently interrupted.

"Father?"

The Onofrian man turned to face Phiora, who was standing in the doorway, an expression of shock and relief adorning her features. Jim quietly ducked past to join Spock.

"Ah, Phiora, _mi beya_," he said affectionately, holding out his arms to his daughter. She ran to him and embraced him tightly, tears threatening to spill from under her lashes. "_Mi beya_, _mi beya_."

Phiora kissed him on the cheek and gazed at him fondly. She only stopped when she saw the three other men standing a little ways behind her father. "Tiro Getsi'noro...? Vigozielli...Ricograzi...I don't understand why you're all here...!"

They all rushed in for a hug, and Kirk elbowed Spock lightly, a grin on his face as he turned away to respectfully let Phiora's family have a moment. Spock's cheeks seemed to become slightly more verdant in hue.

Kirk leaned towards his friend. "I'm starting to think we should have your genius harnessed and placed into containers," he whispered.

"Ja'mio, my son," Zielli cried jovially once the emotional reunion had quelled. "Give Zielli a hug, yes?"

Though he was grimacing, Jim warmly gave the Onofrian man a hug. "Good to see you in person again, sir," he said sincerely.

"We will leave you to your gathering," Spock said, bowing his head and turning to leave, as did Jim.

"Don't be ridiculous," Getsi'noro said suddenly. "We haven't seen you in ages, Ja'mio. And this was your idea, Mr. Spock. Stay, both of you!"

Spock abruptly felt Phiora's eyes on him, though he couldn't determine what the gaze suggested. Partially because he didn't dare look at her straight on while she was watching him.


	13. A Link by Loss

_**Thirteen:  
**_**A Link by Loss**

Jim, Spock, Phiora, and the twins took up the curved sofa in the living room of the guest quarters while Getsi'noro and Zielli took the armchairs near the twins' end of the couch. They were all sharing stories of the past while Spock listened intently. He particularly seemed to enjoy the one or two blackmail-worthy stories about his captain, which Jim made very clear were not to be repeated outside that apartment under pain of being fired. That was the only reference to his position of power over Spock and Phiora he allowed for that night.

"Why, Jim," Spock said in a falsely innocent tone of voice, which admittedly sounded foreign coming from the Vulcan, "whatever leads you to believe I would ever consider sharing such obviously private anecdotes with anyone else amongst the crew?"

"That weird smirk you've got going on there," Jim laughed, pointing at the other man's face, which was indeed sporting a vague smirk. "That's what leads me to believe that."

Phiora laughed as well. "No, Jim, we won't say a word. My mother, though...."

It was one of those practically triennial moments when Phiora seemed to forget her mother wasn't alive. She remembered in half an instant after she said that, though, and the mood seemed to flatline not as quickly as one would expect. The smile on Phiora's face turned into a sad one.

"We all loved my mother. Even Jim did," she said quietly, giving Jim the impression that she was about to tell Spock what happened. This made something tighten in his chest. "We all still do. Jim didn't know her for long, and I doubt he really remembers her...."

"I do," Jim whispered, causing Spock to look at him questioningly. He said nothing, though...only listened.

"She was a very loving person," Phiora continued, and Spock noticed with curiosity that the guests were allowing her to speak alone. He briefly wondered if that was smart. "Very loving. She always put her family first. It was like she was scared of not being within ten feet of me or the boys. I was only eight...the boys were thirteen."

Jim closed his eyes.

"All of us—me, Dad, Mom, the boys, and Getsi'noro—we were outside of our home on Onofrio. We were all doing our separate thing...and I don't even remember what happened exactly, but...I just remember Mom crying and running...running to a spot far away from the house...and setting a disintegrator on the ground. We normally used it for things like...well, you can guess," she whispered, not wanting to even think of using the word "trash" in the same sentence as her mother. "But she set it on the ground and stood over it...and in the next instant...she was gone."

Jim leaned forward and covered his face with his hands. Phiora's eyes filled with tears.

"Right in front of all of us. No one knew why she did it...!"

Spock gently placed a hand on her back, and she leaned into it almost gratefully. Grateful that someone had the decency to give her some semblance of contact. Shortly after, either Vigozielli or Ricograzi took her hand, but Spock didn't remove his own.

"Your mother had moments of depression," Zielli took over quietly. "It was never that intense. Never. She was normally the strongest Onofrian I had ever known."

"Unfortunately," Getsi'noro said softly, "she was also one of the handfuls of Onofrians with depression. Because of our largely felt emotions, any Onofrian with depression is more than likely going to commit suicide. We never thought Gia'vena was going to...."

"Gia'vena was her name?" Spock asked Phiora softly. She nodded, and he absently rubbed her back once. "That is a very beautiful name."

She turned her head to face him, but she didn't look up at him. He felt someone's eyes on him, but didn't look away to find out to whom those eyes belonged. He knew though, despite this moment of grief, his idea was not an unintelligent one.

"She was just...gone," Phiora said again. "Literally...it was like she was never there...!"

"Do not say such a thing."

Jim looked up, taken by surprise. The person who said that wasn't Getsi'noro or Zielli, like he had expected it to be. It was Spock. His voice was firm and determined...and was that empathetic hurt in there too?

"Though she disappeared in physical form," he continued, "she has always been and will always be here in metaphysical form. I am not aware of your personal beliefs, but I believe it is safe to assume that as we speak, she is keeping an eye on you and is very proud of what her daughter has become."

It was like he had also directed the statement towards Jim and merely replaced the subject of the message to his father and replaced "daughter" with "son." With a hearty sniff, Jim smiled sadly at his First Officer. "You should keep that in mind yourself, Spock."

He turned to Jim, his face unreadable, and he removed his hand from Phiora's back. It was as if the three members of Starfleet were irreversibly connected because of that particular kind of loss. Jim lost his father minutes after he was born. Phiora lost her mother when she was eight. Spock lost his mother almost an entire year ago. They were connected through loss. It was bittersweet, Jim thought as Spock firmly nodded his head. It took the feeling of loss from another for the Vulcan to fully understand it.

It bothered Jim none that it wasn't his loss that triggered it, and it even made sense. He never knew his father, so he never knew what was suddenly taken from him. He lived his loss through his mother, who would hide away in her room some nights and just sob into George's extra Starfleet uniform. She only cried briefly in front of him, but he knew she tried not to be like that. She tried not to put all of that on his shoulders.

He once saw Zielli and his mother in an embrace, crying together. It was maybe half a year after Gia'vena died. He had walked past his own kitchen, but backtracked and peered through the slightly open door. The Onofrian man was standing with his arms around Mrs. Kirk, and they were both in silent tears.

So now Sarek could be added to that connection. Though Jim couldn't see the Ambassador crying quite as openly, he had a small suspicion in the recesses of his mind that the Vulcan took a moment or two occasionally when he was _very_ alone to let loose the one emotion that was almost dangerous to hold back for too long. The man wasn't stupid.

"I think we should discuss something light-spirited," Zielli said suddenly, and it occurred to Jim that the thoughts he just had were probably heard by a few if not all of the Onofrians in the room.

Everyone else fully agreed to Zielli's declaration.

"What'd you have in mind, Dad?" Vigozielli—or Ricograzi—asked thoughtfully.

"I thought we could discuss Phiora's disastrous twentieth birthday."

Phiora abruptly laughed, and Spock visibly relaxed. Though no one caught it. "What's there to talk about? It was a disaster."

"Was it really?" Jim asked, sniffing. "Well, that was two years ago and I wasn't there, so you have to indulge Spock and I with a little storytelling."

"God," Phiora groaned, taking a handkerchief from one of the twins. "Fine. First I was late for an exam, which I realized halfway through finishing it that it was the _wrong_ exam, then I went to the shuttle station to meet Vigo and Rico, who were the only ones able to make it here because of the shuttles being too busy, and I was nearly hit by a hovering car, and then—"

"Shit, okay," Jim interrupted her. "That is probably the worst birthday I've heard about ever."

"It's a shame," Zielli said suddenly. "I was hoping that Jim and Phiora would get married around her twentieth birthday."

If an entire room could almost choke, Spock was pretty sure that moment happened just then.

"I have no idea what to say to that other than 'That's the worst goddamn idea I've ever heard, Zielli,'" Jim murmured in a pseudo-casual voice. The twins and Getsi'noro—also apparently floored by the confession—burst into laughter, as did Phiora. "No, I'm pretty sure that's, as my friend Spock here would say, completely fucking illogical."

Spock was surprised he could use his voice after a shock like that. "I do not believe I would say those precise words, but the general thought is accurate." He felt the cool loosening of tightness in his shoulders he didn't even know was there.

Wait...was he relieved? To be relieved meant there was—

Oh, who was he kidding? Zielli's declaration scared the shit out of him. But Jim was, for some reason, very adamant about how ridiculous that idea was, so he felt better.

After a little bit more light-hearted conversation, Spock excused himself to get a glass of water from the kitchen. His back was to the sliding doors, but after the replicator gave him the glass, he heard them open then shut, and felt the now-unmistakable presence of Zielli. It only briefly occurred to him the connection between his presence and the eyes he felt trained on him when he was comforting Phiora.

"Spock," Zielli said quietly as the half-Vulcan leaned against the counter, not entirely convinced it would be altogether a good idea for the Onofrian to be alone in the same room with him while his wires are frayed and exposed. "I know of your heritage. I know you are part human. And I know humans. Believe it or not, humans and Onofrians have a lot more in common than you think."

It was a joke, but Spock didn't acknowledge it as so. "I do not understand the reason for your presence," he said quietly.

Zielli smiled knowingly at the floor. "You don't get my point. Very well, I'll come out and say it." He paused for a moment and watched the young man's back. The sound of laughter from the other room floated in. "You shouldn't be ashamed of your feelings, Spock. You should embrace the feelings you have. Including the ones you have for my daughter."

Spock whirled around, the expression on his face one of confusion and shock. "Sir, I do not—"

"You may be blocking your thoughts," Zielli informed him, "but I am not an idiot. I see the way you look at Phiora. Your eyes...they betray more than you know. You want her. I don't know how, and that is none of my business. But I know you want her."

The tips of Spock's pointed ears turned green and he half-turned away from the other man. "Such claims are unreasonable," he said almost breathlessly. "Illogical. For me to, as you put it, want Phiora...such thoughts would require emotion, and—"

"Oh I know, your Vulcan no-emotion bullshit. Spock," Zielli said roughly, walking forward and clapping a hand on his shoulder. "You're half human. You can't convince me."

Spock went rigid under the friendly contact, and he gazed out the window. The sky was a darker blue than it was earlier, though it wasn't fully evening yet. He did _not_ want to be having this conversation with Phiora's father out of all people. Even if he were talking to Jim about this...it would still be pushing it. He felt the frayed ends of his nerves start to curl.

What really got him, though, was the fact that Zielli wasn't wrong. When Phiora talked about her mother, and when he saw the tears in her eyes, he wanted to share. He knew what she was feeling. He wanted her to know that while yes, she had four other family members there—and even a relative in spirit; Jim—going through the same thing, there was someone else she could release her emotions on. He would have been willing to allow her to cry on his shoulder. He could not cry himself, but watching her cry gave him the sensation of crying. It was like she was crying for both of them without knowing it.

He'd touched her back. He couldn't get anything from that contact, but he felt the wave of sorrow she felt when she talked. He had the feeling he hadn't even scratched the surface. He'd been in her mind before, and he even took the grief she felt and moved it to the furthest corner of her mind. He wondered if it helped any. He wouldn't know...because he had destroyed her all over again.

Spock closed his eyes and silently hoped this would make up for all of it, because seeing the pain _he_ caused in her eyes as he replayed the encounter in his mind was killing him.

And right in front of Zielli, he said as much.

* * *

**If it's really bothering you, here are the pronunciations:  
_Zielli_ = zee-EL-ee.  
_Getsi'noro_ = I personally pronounce it JET-see-NORE-oh, but the other acceptable way is GET-see-NORE-oh.  
_Vigozielli_ = VEE-goh-zee-EL-ee.  
_Ricograzi_ = ree-koh-GRAH-zee. (Also acceptable = ree-koh-GRAHT-see)  
_Gia'vena_ = JEE-ah-VEH-nah. (Also acceptable = JEE-ah-VAY-nah)**


	14. Twentieth Century Enabler

_**Fourteen:  
**_**Twentieth-Century Enabler**

When Spock finished talking, Zielli was also leaning against the counter, his hands folded in front of him with one elbow resting against the steel surface. He had been watching as the half-Vulcan spoke, and several thoughts occurred to him at once. He had no intention of voicing those thoughts, however, so he let them silently amuse him.

Spock watched _him_ as the silence between them grew. He'd just told Phiora's father about how he inadvertently insulted her, then performed a mind-meld to consolidate her, only to ruin her again, supposedly resulting in _kae_'_at k_'_lasa_. He had then told the Onofrian man that the more he thought about how much he hurt her, the more he felt scared and angry at himself.

His last words had even surprised him;

"I find that I care about her to the extent that my own words are cutting through _me_."

As the silence stretched, Zielli kept watching him with that knowing expression on his face. It was almost as if any second he was going to say, "No disrespect intended Mr. Spock, but you're an idiot."

What he _didn_'_t_ expect was, "This, I did not see coming."

Spock blinked, his brow furrowing. "I beg your pardon?" Something else occurred to him just then. "If you were already aware of my feelings for Phiora, why did you express your wish for Phiora and Jim to be married?"

Zielli threw his hands up in a gesture of exasperation. "Because, Spock, I didn't know. That would be why I said I didn't see all of this coming."

Spock blinked again. "You were deceiving me?" It was more of a statement than a question. "You were deceiving me to get me to..._sir_, you took advantage of my vulnerability."

Zielli smiled sadly and sighed. "I assure you, I wasn't aware that's what I was doing until you started pouring your heart out. I couldn't stop you because...Spock, don't deny it, it felt nice, didn't it?"

Spock had to admit, he did feel a lot less tension in his shoulders. It was like the feeling he had when Jim basically called Zielli a nutcase for thinking he and Phiora should have gotten married. "It has indeed released a small portion of the metaphorical weight upon my shoulders," he murmured, "however I still can't help but feel violated."

Zielli seemed ashamed. "I know. All I can say is I'm really sorry. Imagine that; Phiora's father has single-handedly lost the trust of the man who cares about her as much as her family does."

The sadness in the aging man's eyes caused Spock to reassess the matter. His own emotions made the half-Vulcan uncomfortable. Showing these emotions was almost the equivalent of having one's pants yanked down in front of thousands of people. He had to give Zielli a little credit; he did in fact feel as if he couldn't have been stopped once he started talking.

But he said he knew. He said he could read him through his eyes.

"Was it inaccurate to claim you could sense my emotions by observing my eyes?"

"Not really. I knew something was there...but I had no idea it was something of this caliber."

Spock actually sighed. "I do not mistrust you. I am now wary of you, nevertheless I have seen no reason to fully lose trust in you as of yet."

Zielli smiled, but his eyes were still shamed and sad. "I'm glad. And I can assure you, what you have just said to me—everything you have said to me in this room—belongs only with me. It does not leave here. It will die with me when that time comes. Whether or not you want to divulge this to anyone other than me is your business, and your business alone. Even I barely have the right to retain this conversation because I bluffed it out of you."

Spock's gaze had fallen to the floor. He tentatively picked it back up again and gave it to Zielli.

"Thank you," he said in an almost forgiving manner. "That sentiment conveys quite a bit."

"I just want to ask one thing of you."

"Indeed?"

"Don't continue to beat yourself up for doing what you felt was right. It wasn't _kae_'_at k_'_lasa_. She was hurt and didn't know what she was saying. While you were the one who hurt her, you knew you didn't mean to, and you knew at the time that you had to do what you had to do. Don't keep blaming yourself for _everything_. Don't blame yourself for the over-sensitivity of the Onofrian people. Don't blame yourself for your human half. Don't blame yourself for anything you can't help but do."

Spock's lips curved upwards in spite of himself. "That is a decent request. There is something I request of you as well."

"Yeah?"

"Do not partake in any variation of a poker game. Your bluffing ability leaves much to be desired."

* * *

"Hey, Spock," Jim said cheerfully as the mentioned man and Zielli returned from the kitchen. "Vigo, Rico, and I are gonna hit some bars hard. Wanna come with?"

Spock's eyebrow almost jumped off of his face. "I must respectfully decline."

"Ah, I knew it. I was just hoping, you know...."

"That my entire personality and outlook on life changed in the fair amount of time that I was in the kitchen?" His eyes conveyed amusement. "I appreciate the offer, but again, I must decline."

Jim grinned. "Alright, fair enough. How about you, Phiora?"

Phiora, who was standing at the other side of the room, seemingly examining a strange piece of art, raised her eyebrows. "Hm? Oh, god, no. I've had enough of bars to last me until the next shore leave," she groaned.

So the twins and Jim departed, leaving Spock to stand strangely beside the kitchen door, Zielli and Getsi'noro to have a quiet conversation beside the couch, and Phiora to continue examining the painting.

Spock was just considering making his exit when Phiora turned to him.

"Doctor McCoy invited me to check out a museum with him, and he even begrudgingly said it'd be okay for you to join us," she said, and Spock wondered if he'd imagined the hurried tempo of the sentence. "If you come along it'll really piss him off," she added almost enticingly.

He hoped that meant all was forgiven, at least for now. "I accept the invitation, though the purpose is not to anger the good doctor."

Really, who believed that? Phiora made it clear she didn't believe it. Even Spock didn't believe it.

"Good," she said. "Give me a second to go to my quarters and change. He'll be meeting us out front so if you want to wait there, you can."

Spock inclined his head and made his exit.

* * *

"Oh, hurray, you decided to come along," Bones said, his words dripping with sarcasm as he approached Spock, who was waiting outside the Base Dorms. "Are you going to be a pain in the ass tonight?"

"Exceedingly so," Spock said quickly, raising an amused eyebrow.

McCoy actually laughed. Not scathingly or sarcastically...it was a genuine laugh. "Well, I'll be damned. The hobgoblin has a sense of humor! This could be a fun adventure after all." He nodded towards the building. "She getting ready?"

"Indeed." Spock eyed him for a moment. "Did you arrive from the medical meeting?"

"You bet your pointy ears I did. I feel like if I don't get any form of nonsense in my head I might blow a gasket. That's why I chose this weird little museum a few blocks from here. Nothing but nonsense and ridiculousness and illogical things. Think you can handle it?"

"Undeniably. This museum you have chosen for our ventures sounds very intriguing."

Bones shook his head, laughing. "I can't wait to watch your face when you see these things."

Just then Phiora emerged from the building, wearing a short-sleeved shirt over a long-sleeved shirt and jeans.

"Aw, come on," Bones called to her. "Be casual!"

She held her arms out playfully. "I'd wear this to a wedding," she called back. When she met up with them, she looked at Spock. "Don't you think this is fancy enough for a wedding?"

Spock raised an eyebrow and assessed the outfit. "I believe you would outshine the bride."

Bones was beside himself. "_Christ_, I wish Jim were here to listen to the words comin' out of your mouth," he cried. "You're makin' me like you, you damned elf."

"Now, boys," Phiora said, already starting to walk ahead of them. "We're walking to the museum, so be nice or I'll kick your shins."

"Yes ma'am," McCoy said, and he and Spock followed her.

* * *

They barely even got through the door of the museum before Spock's expression made Bones erupt in a fit of laughter he stifled only with his hand. The display in question was that of a lifelike replica of a cow with an extra pair of legs growing out of its back.

"I must ask you to tell me again what the name of this museum is," he said, not sure he wanted to not look away from the bizarre form.

Phiora was studying the poor creature as well. "It's called 'Ripley's Believe It or Not!' and everything in this museum is stuff you either believe...or not. It started out with this man in the twentieth century named Robert Ripley who went around the world looking for incredible anomalies and bizarre people and put them together in a museum. The tradition was carried long after he died. Right now we're in the older section of the building. The further on we go, the more recent stuff we'll see."

"This unfortunate bovine actually existed?"

"Yeah," Phiora said, turning to move on. "It's kinda sad, actually."

They ventured on until they got to an exhibit filled with replicas of different medieval torture devices.

"Well, wouldya lookit that iron maiden," Bones said in awe, stepping closer to it. He suddenly stopped. "Oh no. I've heard of places like this. I ain't gettin' any closer."

"Why not, Doctor? Are you, perhaps, afraid?"

Bones shot Spock a look. "Hell yeah, I'm afraid. This platform right here'll give and I'll think I'm falling into some bottomless pit when in reality I'm only falling a foot, maybe a foot and a half."

Spock glanced curiously at the platform in question, then stepped onto it. It did drop towards the ground with a loud hiss, yet Spock remained not frightened or even startled. His eyebrows rose as the platform aligned itself back up.

"A fascinating display of hydraulics," he murmured half to himself, stepping off of the device. "I believe it is intended to take advantage of the mood set by this particular exhibit."

Bones snorted. "Damn, you weren't kidding when you said you'd be a pain in the ass, were you?"

Spock clasped his hands behind his back and gave the doctor a surprisingly roguish look. "Now Doctor, would I ever do such a harmful thing to you?" He strode past the doctor to join Phiora, who was a little ways ahead of them.

Opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, Bones's ears turned pink. He finally closed his mouth, then muttered, "Green-blooded, pointy-eared...."

Phiora was reading a plaque beside a cast replica of a human hand that was _much_ too large for an average human's hand. "This is crazy," she said, placing her hand against the display to compare hand sizes. "This thing is like, four times bigger than mine."

Spock lifted an eyebrow. "It is indeed a rather large appendage."

"Put your hand on here; let's see how much bigger it is."

When Phiora removed her own hand, Spock complied. There was still a significant difference between hand sizes.

Then she did something unexpected. She grabbed Spock's hand and placed it against her own, causing jolts of electricity to wrap themselves around him and cause his heart to almost stop beating. It was a warm feeling; a feeling he really, really liked.

"That's weird, even yours is four times bigger than mine," she said, dropping both hands and leaving Spock to wish the connection didn't break. He thought about pretending to compare hand sizes for his own benefit, but abruptly pushed that thought away when Bones caught up with them. "Welcome back," Phiora said to the doctor, cutting through Spock's musings.

"Yeah, sorry, I was thinking how one would go about taking a club from that display back there and beating a First Officer over the head with it."

Phiora punched his arm. "What'd I say about being nice?"

"He started it!"

They walked ahead of Spock, in the throes of a light-hearted argument, and Spock took a few deep breaths to calm himself. He looked at the giant hand again and frowned quizzically at it. What a strange excuse, he thought. Very clever. It did throw him completely for a loop. But now he was within his right mind and as he thought about what just happened, he shifted his gaze towards the retreating pair.

Phiora _knew_ about a Vulcan's hands.

* * *

**Who knew that the 20th-century enabler in the title would be Robert Ripley? Haha...I did. I wrote the damn thing. I based the museum on the dregs of memories I have of the RBION museum in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. It's so sad how I only have blatant memories of a few exhibits even though I've been to that particular museum like 342,526,346 times. It's funny...I was thinking, "Okay, think of some sort of museum that would cause amusing expressions to appear on Spock's face. (Ponders) Oh, _duh_.**"


	15. By All Means, Be More Vague

_**Fifteen:  
**_**By All Means, Be More Vague**

"Look at this."

Spock looked up from the plaque he was reading to see McCoy walk over to Phiora, who'd broken the thoughtful silence that settled in one of the more recent exhibits.

The trio had spent so much time being meticulous within the museum, almost examining every detail of everything, that they were among the last people there. It felt nice, actually, having an entire building almost completely to yourself.

The half-Vulcan wandered over to them, his hands behind his back and his dark eyes taking in general details of his surroundings. He stopped beside Phiora and looked into what looked like a large clear container holding what appeared to be a red and grey marble.

"What is it?" Bones asked, just as Spock narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, scrutinizing the object sitting in the middle of the glass container.

"It appears to be a large marble," he said.

Phiora glanced at the sign beside her, then cleared her throat. "It's a brain."

The two men looked at her and were very quiet for a very long time.

"A fuckin' _what_?" Bones asked finally. Spock went over to the sign and read it as well.

"She is correct. This is the brain of a computer-like species we know virtually nothing about. Fascinating," he said, almost too excitedly. "An entire species of beings that are in almost every way computers...with sentient brains."

"How can you find this fascinating when it's basically screaming 'ILLOGICAL' at you?" McCoy directed at Spock. "Computers with a thinking brain? It's not a computer if it has a thinking brain!"

Phiora allowed herself a small smile as she kept her eyes on the brain. "I guess one believes it and the other...not," she told the marble-esque organ. "Though frankly, I thought it'd be the other way around."

Spock looked up at her, then to the display and back. "Is it reciprocating communication with you, Lieutenant?"

"Maybe," she said playfully, leaning forward and smirking at Spock. "It's telling me that you should stop worrying about it. It says everything's fine."

They held gazes for a moment, and Spock understood that was her way of saying she forgave him. He nodded slowly in acknowledgement, forcing himself to fortify his mental barrier for the sake of preventing any embarrassing situations.

It almost startled Spock to realize that he was so close to her right now that he could just...just....

Just what? Just kiss her? That would be a smooth move. Just explain to her the physics behind planetary orbit? Right. Bore her to death.

He was starting to think like Jim, and that startled him.

"Goddammit, I don't want to know about the genitals of a tribble...!"

Phiora laughed and rolled her eyes at the sudden exclamation from the doctor, and just like that, the moment was over. "Are you done? I'm thinking of heading back unless there was something else you two wanted to see."

Spock shook his head, and Bones came over to them, looking slightly traumatized and muttering something about never looking at tribbles the same way again ever.

"This Ripley fella...he must've passed down some serious issues."

* * *

Nobody could accurately pinpoint how many days had passed since then before they were all informed that the _Enterprise_ was ready for departure again. There were mixed feelings among the crew—excitement about the new weapon, disappointment about their shore leave being over, gratefulness that they were returning back to what was regarded as a home....

For Phiora, it was bittersweet. Returning to the _Enterprise_ meant saying goodbye to her brothers, father, and uncle.

For Jim, it meant returning to his true lady. He often worried Bones with how he talked about the ship like it was a woman.

For Spock...well, not even Spock knew what returning meant to him. Especially not with his newly-discovered feeling of discomfort around Zielli. It was a little strange—he had thought deeply about the situation again, which he knew going in that it was a mistake to begin with, and uncovered his buried feelings of worry and anxiety.

Which subsequently resulted in another emotional shut-down.

Phiora wasn't aware of all of this, however, since she was busy saying goodbye to her family, who was all packed up and ready to go back to wherever they planned on going. After several hugs and many kisses, she watched them enter a hovering car and ride off towards the interplanetary shuttle station.

Jim came up behind her, placed a hand on her shoulder, and sighed. "You ready to go, kid?"

"Yeah," she said quietly, her throat constricting. "Yeah, I'm ready."

Neither of them or Bones saw Spock on the way to the shuttles, nor did they see him inside the shuttle they occupied, nor did they see him when they disembarked on the _Enterprise_. It was a little worrisome.

"Is he even aboard the ship?" Kirk asked Bones and Phiora as they hesitantly walked towards the shuttle bay doors heading inside. He looked at Phiora, who had her arms crossed, and she brought a worried hand to her mouth, shaking her head.

"I don't know," she murmured, looking around almost frantically for the half-Vulcan.

That was when they noticed Scotty standing in front of them, holding a datapad. "Oh, yair lookin' tae find the commander, aye? He was on an airlier shuttle an' already went tae the sickbay for routine examinations," he informed them helpfully.

Phiora let out a sigh of relief and the two men beside her acted like they weren't worried at all. "Good man," Jim said, then patted Bones on the shoulder. "Go see to him and other crewmembers."

"Yes, sir," Bones said, then hurried to the med ward.

"Thanks, Scotty," Kirk said once the doctor was gone. "Report weapon status."

"The new weapon looks good," the Chief Engineer told him, a proud air about him. "As well it should; we worked our asses off on 'er. It'd be a good wee bit o' information though when I say tha' turnin' off the device when it's in the middle o' creatin' the shield...would be a righ' stupid thin' tae do."

Kirk grinned. "I'll keep that in mind, Scotty."

"In the meantime, we'll be workin' on a few fail-safes so as we dinnae run into a disaster waitin' tae happen like tha'."

"Excellent."

* * *

Phiora arrived at the sickbay and was surprised to see only Spock was there, being examined by a grumbling Doctor McCoy. The latter saw her standing there and cleared his throat, shaking his head.

"Nobody but the meticulous goody-two-shoes here actually participates in routine post-shore-leave examinations."

"But the _entire_ _crew_ was on shore leave."

"Trust me, I know. Unless someone else comes down here, I'm going to be avoiding the entire crew like the plague."

Phiora noticed then that Spock hadn't looked at her at all since she got there. She shrugged it off as examination self-consciousness. But it still didn't make sense, since really all Bones was doing at the moment was peering rather comically into the Vulcan's ear.

"As much as I like a good break, it's a relief being back on the _Enterprise_," Phiora said to them.

"Indeed," Spock said simply. Bones rolled his eyes.

"Well, _I_ for one had a simply marvelous time back on Earth, glancing at some relatives, spending time with friends and Mr. Spock...."

His only reply was a quirked eyebrow.

"As per usual, you're Vulcan healthy," the doctor told him. "Your ridiculously fast heart rate is normal, and if you can call that green shit floating through your veins blood...."

"I can, I do, and I will," Spock said, his voice clipped though he knew the doctor was teasing. He straightened his science blue uniform with one tug of the hand and strode quickly away, still not looking at Phiora.

It took a few moments for Bones to find his voice.

"Now what the hell is eating him?"

Phiora frowned, wondering pretty much the same thing.

* * *

An hour later the _Enterprise_ was back on her feet, and Earth and the space-dock seemingly shrank in size as she increased the distance between them.

"Well, there it goes again," Kirk mused aloud, sitting in his chair and watching the rear-view display in the corner of the expansive window at the front of the bridge. He sighed. "Lieutenant Uhura, make sure we thank Admiral Der'on for his contribution and the such."

Uhura—who seemed a lot better mentally since the shore leave—nodded and smiled. "Aye, sir."

"Mr. Spock, how did the routine exam go? Any sentient growths I should know about?"

The First Officer raised an eyebrow. "My answer to that is no."

Jim rested his chin on his hand and narrowed his eyes up at his friend, who was standing beside him with his hands, as usual, behind his back. "Your answer to that...is no," he said at length, and the science officer dared a glance at his captain.

"That is correct," he said, just as mechanically as his first answer.

Jim sighed. It was as if they never left the ship.


	16. The Creation of a Habit

_**Sixteen:  
**_**The Creation of a Habit**

Phiora was pretty sure she understood Spock's feelings towards her at this point. She was also pretty sure she shared those feelings. She couldn't quite identify when they—the feelings—started being less friendly and more romantic on her end, but she was sure of two instances: when she talked about her mother back on Earth, and before they left the museum. Phiora had a fleeting anticipation in that museum that he was going to kiss her, but whether it was Bones or something else entirely...it didn't happen.

She supposed she could have made the first move...but that could've gone badly in two ways: Spock might have freaked and ran away, or Bones might have freaked and ran away. Not that she cared, if she had successfully managed to kiss Spock, if Bones stayed or not...but as a general rule, freaking the hell out of her friends was a no.

But now Spock was being distant again, and it concerned her.

Scratch that, it scared the ever-loving shit out of her. She did _not_ want to lose him again. She never had him, per se, but she didn't want a repeat of the entire incident. It hurt too damn much.

She was standing in a corridor, not quite certain of her purpose there, and Spock passed her.

"Spock."

At first he didn't stop walking. When he did, he didn't face her. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

She walked up to him and stopped about a foot away. Even from that distance she could feel electricity between them. It was like that spark she found on the ground forever and a half ago. She wasn't sure she knew where it came from at the time, but now, as she stood facing the half-Vulcan's back, she was absolutely sure.

But as she watched his back, she suddenly became very frustrated.

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you?"

That was when Spock turned to face her. His face conveyed something Phiora wasn't entirely familiar with. "Accompany me to my quarters. This conversation should not commence in plain sight."

When they arrived and the doors had slid shut behind them, Spock walked behind his desk. He stood there for a moment, inspecting the lieutenant's face from his distance.

"I don't want you to do what you did last time. I don't want you to make this grand gesture of apology then throw me away like I don't matter."

"It was never a question of whether or not you matter, Lieutenant," he replied, walking out from behind his desk almost restlessly. "I desire only that you trust me when I tell you I was only acting in a means I knew I had to with the intention of comprehending what was happening to me."

"Don't say that to me," she whispered, reaching out a hand to rest on his arm. "What you did for me...letting me see my family again...that was too big of you. Too good of you to just act like you didn't mean to do it."

Spock didn't meet her eyes. "I made an error that produced an outcome with a negative consequence for me and a positive consequence for you. It is not an important matter for me."

"I don't believe that! Something happened to you, and I want to know what it was!"

Closing his eyes, Spock held the hand on his arm. He opened his eyes again, this time looking at her. "It is nothing of your concern, Phiora," he said softly. "What has happened has happened. Is does no good to reminisce. As you or the captain would say, it is 'no big deal.'"

They were silent for a moment, and Phiora rested her other hand on his shoulder, then let it slide to his chest. "Are you sure?"

His arm numbly wrapped itself around her waist. "I am especially certain."

"Then don't close yourself off again. You saw how angry I was; I get hurt easily."

Their fingers entwined. "I apologize. Legitimately this time. My method of managing anything similar to hurt is to shut down and regain composure. I did not intend to cause you any pain, though I am unclear as to why you should be affected in any way."

"I don't know," Phiora whispered, her eyes becoming moist because she realized his mind was open to her. Everything he said about it being no big deal was true...because she was there. "Maybe it has something to do with the way we're standing right now."

Spock took a moment to observe their posture—their closeness. He flexed his fingers around hers, letting the picture be absorbed. He was suddenly aware of the extra body heat coming off of her in slight waves; the scent of fresh rain and faint citrus she emitted....

She waited with apprehensive hope, yet he did not push her away.

In fact, he pulled her closer and brushed his lips against hers, allowing her to initiate the actual kiss. Their hands let go, and she wrapped her arms around his neck while he rested his hands on her waist.

That first kiss didn't end for almost a full minute. When they pulled away, Spock held his forehead to hers and gazed into her eyes with an emotion Phiora couldn't quite place.

She felt something should have been said, but she wasn't sure what to say. She didn't need to worry about it, because it was Spock who said something.

"I find," he whispered, "that I rather enjoy the way you taste, Phiora."

A blush made its way from her neck to her cheeks. "You don't taste so bad yourself," she whispered back.

At this, Spock couldn't hold himself back. He kissed her again, holding her face in his hands, and she reciprocated by opening her mouth slightly. She was pleasantly surprised by the mild roughness of his tongue, and gasped when it hit an erogenous zone in her mouth.

He backed her up into the wall, not breaking the kiss, and she slid her hands under his shirt, reveling in the feel of the muscles in his back. She raked her nails lightly from his shoulder blades to the small of his back, grinning at the shudder she felt roll through him. He pulled away, leaving them both rather breathless.

"I guess you could say we're together now, huh, Commander Spock?" she asked, smiling.

"I would say you are correct, Lieutenant Phiora."

"When did you know?"

"I am not certain," he murmured, taking her hand in his. "But if there had been any doubt in my mind, it was completely dissipated after I spoke to your father."

There was a pause. "You spoke to my father?"

"I informed him I held feelings for you, and that I was slowly murdering myself knowing I had hurt you. Seeing the pain within your eyes was causing me pain." He kissed the palm of her hand lightly. "I had to know if I was being forgiven."

"So at the museum...when I told you it was alright?"

"Thank you," he whispered.

Phiora wanted to cry. Only Spock could have such an expressionless face while his eyes conveyed something much, much more.

"You're welcome," she whispered, kissing him. "You're so welcome."

* * *

When the first shift back on the _Enterprise_ ended, Phiora waited outside her quarters, which she knew Spock would pass on his way to his own quarters from the main lab, which was where he had been. She wasn't disappointed.

"May I inquire as to why you're simply standing here?" he asked her, automatically holding two fingers out for her. She understood the gesture—not to mention felt oddly humbled by it—and pressed two of her fingers onto them. "I see no logic in finding temporary quarters in the hallway."

Phiora smiled tiredly. "Spend the night with me. We won't do anything...I just want to sleep knowing you're sleeping beside me."

It was as if Spock didn't know what to do with such an intimate request. He didn't seem frightened or alarmed...he seemed touched.

"I would immensely enjoy keeping you company," he said quietly, taking her hand and following her inside.

She let go of his hand shortly afterwards, however, and picked up a neatly folded pile of clothing. "I brought your sleeping outfit. I actually had a bit of time left over today and I fixed the burn on the sleeve for you...I hope you don't mind."

Spock took the garment in his hand and examined the burn...or where the burn had been. It was like it was never there. He looked up at Phiora, completely—dare he even think it?—flabbergasted.

"The gesture is highly appreciated, but completely unnecessary...."

"No, I wanted to do that for you. I saw the burn and...knowing you...."

He leaned forward, shirt still in hand, and placed a gentle kiss on her lips in way of saying thanks.

After they both were prepared for sleep, Spock emerged from the bathroom to find Phiora already in bed, facing the wall. He couldn't tell if she was asleep already, and the brief thought crossed his mind of leaving since she was probably already asleep...but he stopped and weighed the scenarios. Go back to his quarters and sleep alone...or sneak into bed beside Phiora and wake up feeling genuinely warm for the first time in a long time?

Making the logical decision, he carefully snaked into Phiora's bed, wrapping an arm around her waist and—yes—snuggling up against her. She shifted to make it more comfortable.

"Did I wake you?"

"No," she assured him. She kissed his knuckles softly.

He buried his face into the back of her neck. "You are aware of the sensitivity of the Vulcan hand, are you not?" he murmured.

She laughed quietly. "Sorry. I forgot."

_It is alright_.

"Did you just...?"

He answered her by entwining their fingers once more. "Goodnight, Phiora."

"Goodnight, Spock."

* * *

**Yeah. I was at a loss of what to do with this chapter, since the first draft of it ended so soon...DX**


	17. Scottish Humour

_**Seventeen:  
**_**Scottish Humour**

Spock wondered how it was that no one seemed to notice that he was now in a relationship with Phiora. Not that he was someone who would present a gratuitous amount of PDA—and he didn't, not even with Nyota; that one time they had kissed in front of Jim was a fluke seeing as his emotions were not properly tucked into his head—but he still found quite a few shy opportunities to touch Phiora's arm or even touch their fingers together, regardless of present company. There was nothing they were trying to hide, it was the mere fact that no one asked.

Once, even, as they set for Spock's quarters because it was his turn to play host for the night, they held hands. That was big.

Yet no one noticed.

An entire week later Spock stood by a turbolift, awaiting its arrival. When it stopped and the doors opened, he was mildly surprised to find the captain already occupying it, his arms folded over his chest casually.

As Kirk smiled broadly at him, the science officer politely slanted his head and stepped inside.

"Captain, I fail to see a viable reason for you not to be on the bridge."

Jim quickly dealt a piss-poor excuse. "My foot exploded." Before Spock could say anything, he barreled on. "I was thinking about Onofrians recently."

The countenance Spock had displayed at Kirk's excuse—like Kirk had a javelin running through his skull and he just asked him why he had a headache—went away at the statement. "Any in particular, sir?" he asked, still regarding the captain with apprehension and a fleck of disapproval for the "excuse."

"Well, yeah. You never told me what you thought of Phiora's family."

There was a thoughtful pause in which the soft humming of the turbolift filled the vicinity. "They are friendly," the half-Vulcan said at length, straightening his shirt for no apparent reason and holding his hands behind his back.

"What I don't understand," Jim mused aloud, jumping right to his point, "is why Zielli even thought it possible for Phiora and I to get...married. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly the marrying type."

Spock inclined his head. "Yes, the lieutenant said as much over dinner last night after voicing the same confusion."

At first it didn't quite sink in. The First Officer watched the captain's face nonchalantly, and was fascinated over the gradual change from nothing to a small frown, as if he was rewinding the comment and listening to it over again in his mind. He suddenly looked startled, then turned to Spock, his jaw almost touching the floor.

Spock reached over and pressed his jaw closed with his hand.

"Spock, you and Phiora...you and Phiora?!" The captain whispered excitedly after getting over the fact that Spock just touched his face.

"If you mean to inquire about whether or not we are in a relationship, I will answer that with a simple yes."

...Which wasn't simple at all. But that didn't matter to Jim, who was almost incapacitated, he was holding in so much excitement.

"Captain, I must inform you that we are the only two beings inside this turbolift, therefore any actions with which you proceed will not be of consequence to anyone besides you or myself."

"That your way of tellin' me to let go, Spock?"

"Quite."

The blonde leaned over and pressed STOP. "Computer, lock turbolift."

"_Turbolift...locked. Please use access code to unlock._"

It was as if a switch was flipped. Jim uncharacteristically leapt into the air, his fist being slammed into the air above his head. He let out a loud whoop and a yell of delight, doing a very brief victory dance. Spock remained composed beside him, though a small smirk adorned his distinct features as he watched his captain act like a complete fool. Jim stopped and cleared his throat, having let out what was necessary.

"I will not inform Doctor McCoy about your outburst," Spock assured him after a pause.

"Yeah, thanks," Jim said as if nothing happened. "Computer, unlock turbolift; access code one-delta-nine-four-two."

"_Turbolift...unlocked. Standing by for destination._"

"Bridge," the First Officer supplied, earning a slightly disappointed look from the captain. "I have noticed in retrospect your attempts to steer Phiora and I towards each other. Quite frankly I marvel at how I managed to overlook signs as deliberate as those you were demonstrating, Captain."

Jim smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, I'm pretty good at getting under the radar. It's only after the fact that people are aware of how obvious I am. Are you trying to hide it?"

"Not presently, though it would be appreciated if one did not go plainly or metaphorically bellowing through the hallways the fact that Phiora and I are, in fact, in a relationship."

The turbolift arrived and as the doors opened, Jim grinned. "Well, there go my plans for this evening."

Spock lifted an eyebrow in amusement as he stepped with the captain onto the bridge.

"Someone report," Kirk said authoritatively to everyone listening.

"Well, sir, the engines are runnin' smooth as silk, as are the new weapon systems," Scotty piped up from somewhere near Jim's elbow. "Nothin' really worth mentionin'."

Jim clutched his own chest. "Christ, you scared the shit out of me."

"I'm no Adonis, but I'nt no piece a' haggis, either," the Scotsman mumbled defensively, turning back to the console. Jim apologetically slapped a hand on his back. "I'm 'andsome in me own way."

"Captain," Uhura voiced, running her eyes over the controls once more, "Mr. Scott's right. I mean when he said there's nothing worth mentioning."

"Ye sure ye weren't agreein' with me, Lieutenant?"

At the helm, Chekov raised his eyebrows at Sulu, who returned the expression with an added grin and headshake.

"Oh, absolutely. I just thought it would be inappropriate to say as much while we're on duty," answered Uhura, her voice coated with playful sarcasm.

It was Sulu's turn to frown at Chekov, who also took his turn to laugh silently and shake his head.

Jim blinked at Uhura and Scotty's exchange. "Yeah, um...I don't know about you, but I _don't_ want the contents of my stomach anywhere but inside my stomach...so canning it would be ideal." He visibly shuddered. "Images...."

"Ah, ye got nothin' tae worry about, capt'n," Scotty assured him. "I'm married tae the _Enterprise_."

"I believe I will bypass any opportunities to meet your offspring then, Mr. Scott," said a distracted voice from somewhere beside the science officer's station.

Everyone looked over...and no, it was definitely Spock.

"That was good!" Jim laughed, taken aback. "That was a joke!"

"Indeed, though I find it an illogical one. Furthermore I must request you do not send me down to sickbay on account of such a rare occasion."

Jim had to double over to keep his spleen from rupturing, he was laughing so hard.

Chekov grinned Sulu's way. "I like eet here."

* * *

Phiora frowned and looked at the complex manual that she had spread out on her lap as Spock worked within a Jeffries tube, laying flat on his back as he rearranged wires. She was sitting near the opening, a communicator in hand.

"I don't see where...oh never mind, I see it," Phiora said into the communicator. She turned to Spock. "Above the red nodule, see it?"

"Affirmative," was Spock's grunted reply. He pulled out a thick blue wire. "It has been detached."

"Now what, Scotty?" Phiora asked into the com.

There was a brief pause, then, "Alrigh', now bring it down tae the compressor panel an' connect it under the red wire."

Spock shifted down the tube a few inches and did as he was instructed. "Connected," he told Phiora.

She repeated the word into the com. A second later, Scotty said, "Alrigh', now jus' flip the switch."

When Spock did so, there was a very small explosion of blue and electricity, causing Phiora to jump.

"Spock, are you alright?" she asked, her nerves on edge as the tube suddenly filled with smoke.

There wasn't a reply at first, but then Spock starting coughing and slid out of the tube, a trail of smoke following him out. He stood and assessed the damage on himself, coughing as Phiora brushed his uniform with her hand nervously and placed her hands on his shoulders, his face, and his arms. "I am uninjured," he said. He took the com from Phiora. "Mr. Scott, there seems to have been a miscalculation. The panel exploded in my face." He lifted an eyebrow. "In the fashion of someone we are all well acquainted with; I am a scientist, not a mechanic."

"Ah, shite," Scotty grumbled. "I'm on me way."

Spock closed the com and watched with amusement as Phiora continued to fuss over him. "I said I am uninjured," he murmured, holding her arms. "Do you not trust my own judgment?"

"No, I do...I just...I don't know. I'm sorry," she said almost distantly, her hand at her forehead.

Spock took a moment to notice this behavior, and his brow furrowed. "You are trembling." He watched her a second more, then held her shoulders. "This phobia...sudden flashes. Did it originate when Gia'vena...?"

Phiora screwed her eyes shut and nodded tightly. "It's silly, I know. I was getting over it, but the thought of it being _you_...."

Spock took her hand. "I am here, and I am unharmed."

It was strange, the calming effect those seven words had simply because of the voice behind them. Phiora exhaled and nodded, and Spock leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

"I cannae understan' why I'm still surprised by yer actions, Mr. Spock," Scotty quipped as he rounded the corner to see the affectionate display. He heaved a hearty sigh and gestured to the Jeffries tube. "'Elp me clear the smoke an' I'll see what went wrong."

Spock raised an eyebrow in Phiora's direction, and she smiled.


	18. The Underlying Issue

**This chapter seems a little choppy, but I did that to sort of emphasize the chaos going on between Spock and Phiora.**

* * *

**_Eighteen:_  
The Underlying Issue**

Phiora wasn't quite sure what possessed her to turn to Spock when the clock blinked 0015 and say what she did. All she knew is that at 0016, she was staring into the face of a Vulcan who quite obviously did not know what to do with himself. Their hands were still together and he made no effort to pull his away, which was a good sign at least.

"Are you in possession of all of your faculties, Phiora?" he whispered, lightly squeezing her hand.

She laughed almost silently and gave him a little credit—she was having trouble remaining awake. "Are you accusing me of insanity?" she asked hoarsely, leaning forward and kissing the tip of Spock's nose.

"I am merely suggesting that perhaps because your state of rest was interrupted for no visible reason you are not fully aware of what you are saying."

"What? I only said I'm ready whenever you are. I could be talking about anything."

Spock reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his deep brown gaze not leaving her lighter brown one. "That is true...but I am not unaware of your implications."

Phiora stretched out and accidentally-on-purpose curled one leg around his longer legs. The gesture was chaste, and Spock recognized this.

"Well," Phiora murmured into their closeness, "we've slept in each other's beds for almost a month...you've intimately melded with my mind...." She examined his face, then decided to go for broke. "I've had my hand down your pants...."

Spock's face almost immediately flushed green, and she noticed it because of their nearness. "That was an accident," he reminded her.

"You're right, it was a very elaborate accident." She absently placed a hand on his waist. "Besides, I'm not forcing you into anything. I'm only letting you know that _I'm_ ready."

After a few moments of them just staring into each other's eyes, Spock nodded wordlessly in acknowledgment and Phiora drifted back to sleep.

* * *

"How does a multilingual scientist who specializes in alien cultures not manage to get her Vulcan boyfriend into bed?"

Phiora's eyes widened and she swiftly kicked Jim in the shin, causing him to lean against the wall in pain. Comically the doors beside him opened and closed, almost as if recognizing a little too late that there wasn't actually anyone passing through. They were waiting for the engineers to come to them with info and an item needing translating from the customizations to their new weapon, and Jim was clearly getting a little restless.

"You can willfully and legally talk to me however you want, _Captain_," she muttered, "but at least save Spock some dignity, yes?"

The frantic look on her face reminded Jim of her father. Why the expression of having her feathers ruffled made the resemblance more prominent, he wasn't sure.

"I could have you court marshaled for kicking me you know," he hissed with false indignation. "Anyway, I'm just trying to make conversation." He eyed her for a moment as he straightened. "So...you're taking it slow? Like, universal shift slow?"

"Sir...."

"Okay, fine. It's your business."

There was a strange silence between the two friends, but that was broken when they were unexpectedly plunged into darkness. Jim turned to the com and pressed a button. "Everything okay in there?"

"Sorry, sir," an ensign responded. "We accidentally diverted power from the lighting in one section of this level. It should be back up in no time."

"What about the emergency lights? Why aren't they activating?"

"We um...took power from those too. It'll all be straightened out momentarily, sir."

"Sure thing," Jim muttered. He turned to Phiora. "Let's have a sit so we don't trip over ourselves."

They both sat at the same time, their backs against the bulkhead, and Jim sighed.

_You should probably talk to Spock about why he's hesitant._

Phiora blinked and turned her head in the direction of the thought. "Do you know something I don't know?"

"No."

"You're lying. You know I can just dig it out of you."

"Not saying a _word_."

Phiora focused on the brainwaves she could hear Jim giving off, and mentally picked through them until she found the one she assumed was the one she was looking for. She couldn't see the memory, but she could hear it, and she heard Spock's and Jim's voices as if they were talking right beside her—with the added bonus of Jim's thoughts as the two men spoke in the recollection.

_I ended the relationship because I found I did not want her._

_(Wow, that's not like, really cold or anything.) You threw her away?_

_Incorrect. I did not want her._

_(Okay...he said that twice. Knowing him, that means something else. Wait...what?) Oh, okay...okay, are you telling me you _didn't_ want her...or you _couldn't_ want her?_

_Sir, I guarantee you...(Ha. Gotcha. You're more of a human male than you think, my friend.) The reason was because I could not want what she wanted._

_(So Uhura just didn't cut it for him, is that what he's trying to say?) Personal choice or you just...had _no_ choice? (This thing is shutting down real quick.)_

_I had a definite choice._

Phiora suddenly grabbed Kirk's arm, startling him. "Jim," she hissed. "What the hell does this mean?"

The captain was thoroughly disoriented at this point. "What? What the what does what mean?"

"That memory. Of you and Spock talking about him not wanting Uhura. What does it mean?"

Jim sighed. "Guess."

Without another word, Phiora got up and blindly made her way to the turbolift.

There was a lingering silence, then Jim said, to no one in particular, "You _do_ have a job, you know."

* * *

"You decided you didn't want Uhura."

"Correct."

"Why?"

"Her advances were somewhat forceful."

Phiora blinked, realizing that she had walked up to Spock and just started asking questions without much pretense or background. And he was answering them. Calmly. She also noticed that they were in a luckily abandoned corridor.

But then something weird happened.

"Do you have any further inquiries, Phiora?"

The lieutenant looked him in the eye, then slowly reached her hand up to rest on his neck, then brushed her fingers up past the point of his ear and stroked his hair gently.

"No," she said quietly, watching the swirl of emotions behind his eyes. Confusion. Enjoyment. Something else. "No, Spock...I won't leave you if you say no."

That declaration shocked them both. He suddenly grabbed her wrist, brought it down from his temple, and held it. His eyebrows were knitted together, yet his eyes were wide.

"Vulcans are gifted with the ability to naturally block their thoughts," he said evenly, otherwise not moving a muscle. "I was born with such ability."

Phiora swallowed. "I know...."

"Did you hear that thought?"

"I don't know. I really don't know."

"You do not know," he said, more stating it than asking.

"I don't know. I just said it without knowing where it came from or why...." She narrowed her eyes. "It's true regardless."

Spock watched her for a moment. Then he did nothing but release her wrist, hold out two fingers, and allow her to return the gesture.

* * *

Jim watched his First Officer reach across him and press STOP as they stood in the turbolift on the way to the bridge. He was immediately scared. Did Phiora tell him he'd been asking prying questions? No...that concealed expression wasn't anger. It was rather similar to someone hesitating or struggling with their next words.

"She informed me that she would not leave me if I refused."

Oh, great. Evidently Spock was talking about Phiora, which further implied that the Vulcan knew that Jim knew there was nothing going on behind closed doors. He wasn't sure if he should feel embarrassed and ashamed or not. Then it occurred to him that Spock was..._reaching_ to him as a friend. A _friend_.

Well, if it was a friend Spock needed, then a damn good friend James Kirk was going to be.

He relaxed his posture, making sure he visually appeared to be open for any discussion. "That's good," he said thoughtfully. "That's dedication. She really cares about you."

"I do not want to lose her, Jim."

Kirk almost choked. The sentiment coming from the half-Vulcan was packed with so much meaning it felt like it wrapped around his own heart and squeezed. "Spock," he said forcefully. "You want her."

Spock frowned a little, not sure he understood. "Explain."

"You didn't want Uhura, so you ended it with her. You're scared to death of losing Phiora, even though you _know_ she won't leave you if you say no. But Spock...Spock...." He waved his hands around a little helplessly. "Don't you see? Why would you say no? If you didn't want her, you wouldn't care if she left you or not."

Spock let his hands fall from behind his back, and he reached across to restart the lift. He watched his captain for a moment, and once the turbolift doors opened, he exited.

Jim noticed with a smile that he'd gotten off two floors early.

* * *

The silence that enveloped Phiora's quarters wasn't unwelcome, and she found she enjoyed Spock quietly kissing her bare shoulder while entwining his fingers with hers. She then embraced him, tipping them over so Spock was on his back.

"We can keep this to ourselves," she murmured, propping herself up on her elbow and wrapping her arm around his unclothed midsection, momentarily forgetting only to be immediately reminded that his heart was low on his left side. "You don't have to answer any questions anyone asks you."

"I am aware of that," Spock said patiently. Phiora became solemn all of a sudden. "What is on your mind?"

"Did you really want this?"

He took her hand and kissed it. "Yes."

She leaned down for another kiss, and before they knew it they were caught up in another whirlwind of intimacy.


	19. The More You Know

_**Nineteen:  
**_**The More You Know**

"Nice of you to finally join us, Bones."

The doctor stopped as he entered the conference room and narrowed his eyes at the faces of Captain Kirk, whose voice greeted him, and Mr. Scott. He saved a special glower for Spock, who had a very irritating smirk to give back in reply to the evident aggravation.

"Jim, I'm sorry I have people to fix," he shot back. "Maybe one day you wanna don some gloves and remove an inflamed appendix?"

Kirk shifted in his seat. "Don't you just inject something and it dissolves into nothing?"

Bones gave him a lovely smile. "I do. But you wouldn't." He snorted at the seating arrangements, which, for the sake of symmetry, forced him to sit beside Spock. For a brief moment he considered sitting on Jim's other side, but he grudgingly realized that would be childish. He planted himself in the seat.

Spock sensed the doctor's discomfort and maintained a stoic appearance as he turned back to the captain. "I believe we are all ready for you to continue, Captain," he said calmly. He dared another glance to the CMO, who was watching Jim with his head lowered. Spock wondered for a moment whether or not Doctor McCoy realized he looked as uneasy as he did. "Am I correct, Doctor?"

When the other man took a glimpse at him, he smirked again. This time it wasn't as smug, and Bones noticeably relaxed. "Yeah. Yeah, go ahead, Jim."

Interesting.

Jim nodded. "Alright. Well, our first assignment since shore leave is on a planet called...." He paused to glance at the monitor in front of him. "...Beylon. The Beylorians seem to have a surplus of the material we need to operate the weapon—aurilium—and after a brief contact with them they graciously agreed to supply us with it."

"Tha's it? They're jus' gonna give us the aurilium?" Scotty asked incredulously.

"Well, no," the captain answered, leaning back in his seat. "They did ask for some weapons in return." Spock went rigid, but Jim caught it and spoke first. "Spock, you had excused yourself during this part of the discussion. No, we're not going to give them any of our weapons, but I agreed that we would help them develop their own with whatever resources they have."

"I don't know if that's such a good idea, Jim," Bones interjected. "Do we really want another civilization to be able to discover they can off each other?"

"That would not be the intent, Doctor," Spock said serenely. "We would only assist them in their own defense mechanisms."

Scotty narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "Do they 'ave their own defense system?"

Jim sighed. "Yes and no. According to a Beylorian council leader, Mkeerkiq, their previous method was like the old-world karate. Physically defensive but not used to initiate any sort of battle. Unfortunately, about half an Earth century ago they were attacked by a rebel Klingon crew and a lot of Beylorians were killed because they couldn't match up against them."

Bones sighed as well. "As unfortunate as that is, the chances of that happening again are—"

"Twenty-two-point-four-three-eight to one-hundred," Spock supplied helpfully.

"—pretty slim," Bones finished stubbornly.

The captain shrugged. "I know the chances are small, but they're a peaceful people. Wouldn't you say so, Spock?"

"Indeed," Spock murmured, having turned the monitor to face him and scrolling through paragraph after paragraph of text with a speed that gave McCoy pause. "Their history suggests the only war they have ever endured was the Beqrekan War, which was fought between one country and another."

"A civil war," Bones said as if that was the only reason they needed to not help the Beylorians with weapons.

Spock turned a suddenly amused eye to him. "Doctor, the 'war' was a civilized debate using the opposing opinions of representing councilmen on the subject of whether or not the country of Beqrek should acquire another councilmember due to its size."

There was a silence.

"You mean to tell me," Bones asked, narrowing his eyes at the Vulcan, "that their biggest war was an argument?"

Jim chuckled. "Yep."

Scotty leaned back and crossed his arms. "Well, in tha' case, I think it's a great idea."

The captain's eye was on his oldest friend. "What do you think, Bones? I'll rethink the whole thing if you don't think it's a good idea."

Spock turned to the Doctor patiently, awaiting his response.

"Why does my input matter? It's clearly three to one here," Bones said, leaning forward in his seat a bit.

"Unless I am mistaken," Spock told him, shifting his gaze over to the captain, "Captain Kirk values all opinion and considers them personally." He tilted his head slightly and watched McCoy. "He would behave in the same manner if Mr. Scott were the undecided party."

Bones snorted. "How thoughtful," he said, his tone cynical but the words genuine. He watched Jim, pondering. Then he rolled his eyes in defeat. "Alright. I don't see why not."

Jim's face split into a broad grin. "Good man. Once we arrive in Beylon's orbit, we're going to beam down to the country of Iqer. That's where the aurilium deposits are." He folded his hands on the table and looked around at the other three faces in what was very close to excitement. "Here's what's going to happen. There's going to be a team that goes to the aurilium deposits and gathers the mineral. According to Scotty, we need the aurilium in liquid and gas form to really do us any good. With the combined help of Beylorian scientists and our own scientists, the rocks will be broken down and converted to liquid form, and a portion of that will be further transformed into gas."

Spock shut down the monitor and pushed it aside. "Captain, unfortunately aurilium is a very sturdy composite. It will take several days to get any semblance of liquid from the solid, and an additional several days to retrieve gas from said liquid. It will take a lot of time."

"I think I have some of that somewhere in my desk," Jim quipped, winking at Spock. He was rewarded with two raised eyebrows. "Anyway, while all of this nonsense is happening, another team will be helping the Beylorians with weapon design and assembly. What team do you gentlemen wish to join, if any?"

"Ach, I'm afraid tha' I still 'ave tae make some adjustments on the weapon integration with the ship's system, Cap'n," Scotty said. "I dinnae understan' why the damned thing 'asn't been completely installed."

"Alright, then you work on that. Spock?"

"I will assist with the substance conversion," he said with a small bow of the head.

"Good. Bones?"

"May I make a suggestion?" Spock asked before the doctor could form a thought. When no one stopped him, he continued. "I recommend that Doctor McCoy be assigned to supervise the mineral collection and conversion. From what I have gathered in my time of knowing him, he is very skilled in detecting flaws in chemicals which would otherwise have been overlooked. I believe it is a necessity to obtain pure aurilium. Aurilium that is contaminated with another mineral will not only be of little use to us, the actual usage of such material could result in disaster."

This compliment clearly shocked the other three men. Bones exchanged a glance with the other two and cleared his throat. "Gee, thanks for suggesting I get the most work," he grumbled. It was a futile effort; his voice betrayed the effect of the flattery.

Spock said nothing.

Jim placed his hands palm-down on the table. "Well, it's a good suggestion. You want the job, Bones?"

The doctor exhaled. "Sure. Why not?"

"Good," the captain beamed, standing. "Then we're done here unless any of you have further questions." No one did. "Alright. I'll go round up the teams and brief them. We won't be in orbit for another day or two, so we have some time to prepare."

As Jim and Spock made their way to the bridge, Jim chuckled. "That was an awfully nice thing you did for Bones there," he said.

"I merely advocated his abilities."

"Aw, come on. You were so flirting."

Spock's eyebrow twitched and his face stayed indifferent, but his eyes grinned. "Even if that were true, I believe Lieutenant Phiora would have some protests against such an action."

Jim's face lit up as the duo entered a turbolift and he snapped his fingers. "That reminds me, I have to ask her which team she wants to join. I normally wouldn't have sent her down but I promised I would send her down more often."

"I will ask tonight to save time," Spock volunteered. He didn't need to elaborate; Jim knew Spock and Phiora slept in each other's quarters.

The turbolift ride was silent, which confused Spock. He assumed, based on his anthropological knowledge and his more specific familiarity with Jim, that he would be bombarded with sly questions about the night before. Ironically Spock would have refused any questions, yet he still found it peculiar that none were being asked. He wondered if Jim forgot, but the bigger hope that the captain had matured enough to mind his own was the thing that finally got Spock to shrug it off.

Stranger than fiction, the turbolift stopped and Phiora boarded.

"We were just talking about you," Jim said, smiling.

Phiora raised her eyebrows. "Really? That's odd; I was just thinking about Spock."

The half-Vulcan's ears turned a tint of green as he discreetly held two fingers out for her. She repeated the gesture, and Jim watched with interest.

"What was that you just did?"

Spock turned to the captain. "It is a Vulcan gesture of affection somewhat akin to a small Terran kiss."

Jim grinned. "That's cute," he said. "I didn't mean to gawk."

"There is no need to apologize," Spock assured him. "You were unaware of the meaning."

"Yeah, I'll look away when you guys do that now."

Spock looked at Phiora, his face unreadable. She frowned at him thoughtfully, and Jim got the impression his First Officer was telling her something with his mind. Phiora's interested expression was replaced with a smile and a nod. The lift stopped a floor later and opened.

Before she left, she "kissed" Spock.

The lift started again, and three floors later they were at the bridge.

"What did you tell her?" Jim asked nosily as they stepped out.

Spock looked at him, surprised that he asked the question, but still didn't ask the bigger one. "I asked her to accompany me at dinner tomorrow night."

"Ooh, a date?" Jim whispered conspiratorially as they headed to the chair. Jim sat in it while Spock stood beside it.

"I suppose if you insist on referring to it as such, then yes."

"I heavily insist. In fact, I demand to refer to it that way."

It was a weird moment when Spock realized no one in the vicinity besides Jim knew about him and Phiora. Then something even stranger passed through his mind.

"Refer to what, Captain?" Spock asked in a normal voice. Before Jim could answer, though, he returned to his station and pretended to be poring over the controls and monitors. He sensed eyes on him, but he glanced over to Jim with purpose.

It took a moment of odd looks from the captain before comprehension dawned on him. Then, with pride—yet nonchalantly—he answered, "Your date with Phiora." He smiled warmly. "Did I just bellow? My bad."

Spock looked over at Lieutenant Uhura as Chekov whirled around without thinking and Sulu reached over to turn him back. The communications officer returned the gaze, looking shocked. Then, so slowly that Spock wasn't sure it was happening at first, she smiled.

"Good for you," she said almost inaudibly. It was genuine and Spock knew it.

Something inside of him let out a sigh of relief.


	20. Dinner and a Show

**For this chapter, let's pretend Onofrio was one of the first planets found after the beginning of Starfleet. You know what? Let's just pretend everything Phiora says about her home planet is true. 'Kay? I doubt it should cause any freakouts amongst the more experienced Trekkies.  
**

**

* * *

**_**Twenty:  
**_**Dinner and a Show**

Phiora was excited. She knew it wasn't going to be the best date ever because...well, for one, she and Spock were going to have dinner in her quarters instead of a fancy restaurant. He had originally planned for the dinner to be in his quarters, but he discovered a malfunction with the climate control, so earlier that day he told her they would have to be in her quarters. She had no problem with the change of plans. As for the attire, they both agreed to dress nicely instead of the ridiculous uniforms, but she didn't want to overdo it, so she just put on one of her nicer Onofrian outfits.

It was a shirt that once belonged to her mother, given to her by Getsi'noro. It was a little outdated on Onofrio since Gia'vena had worn it when she was in her early twenties, but it was nonetheless Phiora's favorite shirt.

And really, it was just a short-sleeved black shirt with lacing on the sides. On Onofrio, it was a very casual shirt that appealed to the human culture. To Phiora, it was the most beautiful shirt she had ever seen.

She ended her hour-long debate on how she should wear her hair by opting to keep it down, and just as she did so the door buzzed.

"Come in," she said, and out of the corner of her eye she saw a tall figure enter the quarters. "Oh, hi, Spock. Sorry, I was just finishing—" She turned and froze.

Spock was standing with his hands behind his back and watching her expectantly, but that's not what gave Phiora pause. He was wearing a black shirt that at first glance seemed identical to his black academy uniform. As Phiora kept looking, though, she realized the shirt was inlaid with a pale gold seam that matched the intricate buttons starting on the right of the high collar and continuing down the middle of the shirt. She also noticed with some amazement that the shirt reached his knees like a jacket, yet the buttons stopped where the buttons of a normal shirt would stop.

His pants were also black with the same silvery-gold seam. The sight of him standing there took her breath away in a virtually literal manner.

"—up," Phiora finished with a whisper. She looked up at his face, which she noticed seemed to been accentuated by his outfit. "You're a beautiful man," she said without thinking.

Spock raised an eyebrow and allowed his hands to fall to his sides, and Phiora noted the faint embroidery lining the sleeves. "While I thank you for the unconventional compliment, I must also say you are also a vision of beauty, Phiora."

That's when the self-consciousness kicked in. "Spock...I'm wearing a t-shirt and jeans."

He approached her. "Not surprisingly that matters little to me."

Phiora extended two fingers, and he responded, but the minute the gesture was acted out he leaned forward and kissed her, wrapping an arm around her waist. When the kiss was over, she watched him, biting her bottom lip.

"Um," she murmured distractedly. "I...already got the food."

"So I observed," Spock said patiently, pulling away from her.

She almost protested, but instead she joined him at the table.

They were about three minutes in when Spock spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them.

"Tell me about Onofrian history."

Phiora looked up from her plate, which held the same vegetarian contents Spock's held. "You know about Onofrio," she pointed out quietly.

Spock actually seemed a little sheepish. "Admittedly my motives aren't entirely to gain knowledge of the subject." He knit his brow, his eyes on his plate. "I enjoy hearing you speak."

For a second Phiora was ironically speechless. Then she smiled. "Where should I start?"

"The beginning," Spock answered immediately, lifting his gaze to meet hers. She was met with the fleeting impression that he would be content never to do anything but listen to her for as long as he lived. That fleeting impression felt like an electric impulse shot right at her heart.

Phiora took a few bites of her food, gathering her knowledge of her home planet. "Onofrio was discovered by the Federation a few hundred years ago," she began, and her peripheral vision told her Spock was watching her intently though he continued his meal. "A starship carrying a crew of humans, the majority of them Italian, were the first to land. The crew of the ship—the _U.S.S. Commune_—enjoyed the planet so much that they didn't want to leave, and the captain of the _Commune_ returned to Federation base alone to fight for the privilege to colonize the planet. After a grueling battle with the administration, his request was finally granted.

"He returned to the planet with the good news, and he told them Starfleet was waiting for a name for the planet. The decision was unanimous—they were going to name the planet after the captain. His name was D'Onofrio Il'Tourra.

"Sometimes we refer to Captain Il'Tourra as The First. It was his idea to colonize the planet, he alone fought for that right, and he single-handedly pulled together a system of authority that would not only be fair, but effective. He fought the natural urge to call himself king, as a few _Commune_ crewmembers suggested he do.

"The Federation did help out to a degree—they recognized the residents of Onofrio wished for the planet to be free from being run by them.

"Our language sounds like Italian, but if an Onofrian attempted to speak Onofrian with a Terran Italian, nobody would be understood. The language had evolved over time to become what it is now. Also, Onofrio developed a culture of their own that differs greatly from that of Italy.

"As for the telepathic abilities...no one is really sure as of yet when that came into play. Some believe that the power was carried down from The First himself; that he had such ability and the gene was spread that way. Others believe it had nothing to do with him whatsoever and that it just developed over time."

Spock swallowed. "What do you believe?"

Phiora took a moment, which Spock graciously and patiently supplied. "Either theory is possible."

"I am quite familiar with someone who would have answered the question with a response almost verbatim to the one you just gave me." He placed his utensil down. "Knowing you as well as I do, I believe I am right in assuming that is not the answer you want to give me."

He did know her. It was pleasantly alarming.

"My guess doesn't make any sense," she informed him. "There's no proof of anything even remotely similar, and I don't even know why or how I came to the conclusion I did. You wouldn't want to even fathom it."

"Try me."

Phiora's eyebrows shot up as she observed Spock's face. He just uttered something very un-Vulcan while he sat as straight as a rod in his seat with his hands delicately in his lap. For a moment she wasn't even sure he said it. But then she saw the rare twinkle in his eye—the one he got when he was amused or being uncharacteristically mischievous.

It was very reminiscent of Jim.

"When you tell me, do not speak of it as if you are unsure." He folded his hands on the table. "Speak of it as if it is the only thing within your being you believe to be one-hundred percent true."

Phiora narrowed her eyes a bit, still watching her Vulcan with apprehension.

"Do not use the word 'somehow'," he said quietly, and Phiora's eyes widened. That was one of the exact words she used in her head as she thought of how to explain her theory.

And _somehow_ Spock knew that.

Phiora took another moment to gape at Spock, but then she gathered her nerves and spoke.

"Onofrio absorbed the power from Vulcan."

There was a silence during which Phiora honestly waited for Spock to do some Vulcan equivalent of hysterical laughter. Or call her an idiot. Or get up and leave. But he didn't. He stayed right where he was and watched her.

"Is that all?"

Here it comes. Phiora swallowed hard and nodded.

Spock leaned back in his seat and looked at the wall to his left.

"I suppose...the vibrations from centuries upon centuries of telepathy taking place on Vulcan could have penetrated the planet's atmosphere over time and spread itself among space, being drawn to Onofrio because it is the closest planet to Vulcan's previous location. The vibrations could have come in contact with Onofrio's atmosphere and developed into some form of radiation which then affected the inhabitants as they developed."

Phiora blinked. What Spock just said was so illogical it almost hurt, and yet he said it, which told Phiora he was grasping for any way he could possibly find for that theory to work.

"Or perhaps since Onofrians have visited Vulcan and vice-versa for hundreds of years, the interactions caused some form of—"

He hadn't noticed Phiora had gotten up and walked around to him, and she took his face in her hands and kissed him firmly, shutting him up mid-sentence.

What little was left of their dinner was hopelessly abandoned as Phiora pulled Spock to her bed, each of them removing piece by piece of the other's clothing until they had left a good-sized pile on the floor. By the time they fell atop the covers, each one of their nerves was on fire.

"Do you not wish to hear the rest of my contemplations?" Spock teased as he brushed a hand across her stomach and gripped her waist, pulling her closer to him.

"Not unless your contemplations have anything to do with why we're skipping the foreplay," she said as she watched him reach under her pillow for the protective transmitter. She heard him flip the switch and he returned his attention to her.

"I assumed that was the venture to the bed."

Phiora grinned and pulled his face down to hers by his ears.

* * *

"Spock?"

The commander frowned from his place beside Phiora as he watched her in the light they opted to keep on. They had only been still for exactly a minute. "I am here," he murmured. When she said his name just then she seemed disoriented. "Are you alright?"

Phiora blinked. "What? Oh, yeah. I'm fine. I was confused for a moment."

"No doubt the release of sexual energy caused a brief malfunction within the nervous system."

She turned her head to him. "Was that your way of bragging?"

"If I were to 'brag' I would say that I had given you so much pleasure that your brain was momentarily shut down."

"And are you saying that?"

"That," Spock muttered, settling down to sleep as Phiora said the lights off command, "is none of your concern."


	21. One Nightmare Down

**This chapter is very choppy, and by that I mean it's everywhere. I only did that because I wanted to focus on the reactions rather than anything else. If it's so everywhere your neck snaps, I apologize. I'm also aware that Spock would probably not be as calm about this, but I do make up for that (and sort of explain) in the next chapter.  
**

**

* * *

**_**Twenty-One:  
**_**One Nightmare Down**....

"Spock, you have a hickey."

The half-Vulcan's expression turned to stone as he turned his head to face Jim. "Excuse me?"

The two men were on a turbolift heading for the bridge and had been silent for about two minutes before the captain noticed something and voiced his discovery.

The grin Kirk was suppressing started leaking through as he indicated on his own neck the area. "You um...right around here...dark green blotch." He turned his laughter into several coughs. "You might wanna head down to sickbay and see what can be done about that."

Spock suddenly understood what was happening, and his ears flushed a deep emerald that matched the spot on his neck. "Captain—"

"Oh hell no, for this I'm Jim."

"...Jim...I was not aware of this," he murmured, semi-casually placing a hand on his neck, covering the offending spot. "I apologize for my...lack of discretion."

Kirk chuckled. "Hey, things happen. It's not your fault. If I were going to blame anyone, it'd be Phiora."

This caused Spock to flush not quite completely green. "Jim...."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. Go and see Bones—oh shit, Bones is gonna _love _this," he added more to himself than anything.

Spock almost violently stopped the lift at the next floor and exited, one hand still on his neck.

* * *

"Someone finally cut you?"

Spock actually stopped walking as he entered the sickbay with a whoosh of the doors and threw the CMO a glare. The hand on his neck twitched. "I fail to see how that query was necessary or entirely appropriate, Doctor."

Bones sighed. "You're right, I'm sorry. What happened?"

As the First Officer approached, he kept his hand on his neck. "I would prefer if this weren't discussed. I trust once I remove my hand that you will recognize the problem and see to it immediately."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Alright, alright, fine, let's see what—" He stopped dead when Spock's hand dropped. "Good..._God_! A_ hickey_?! Couldn't you have just...covered it up?! Goddammit, why are you showing me this?!"

"As I said before, Doctor, it had occurred to me that perhaps one of your medical implements could remedy this discoloration." He eyed the doctor, none-too-thrilled. "I see from your reaction that I was in error."

"You bet your elf ears you were in error! Get a scarf or find some cosmetic cover-up used for undercover missions or...dammit, you're a Vulcan, just WILL it away! Whatever you do, do it away fromhere and for the love of everything holy and otherwise, do _NOT_ tell me about it!"

There was a pause during which Spock assessed the doctor's stress and found himself rather amused that he was cause of it. "Thank you. I will do so immediately," he said, inclining his head and a grin tugging subtly at the corner of his mouth. He turned to leave.

"Wait a minute."

Spock stopped and turned back to the doctor, who appeared to have realized the factors that had to add up to cause the ailment.

"I am going to commit suicide for asking this—"

"As much as I do not wish suicide upon you, I believe you are about to ask me who gave me this," Spock said, not indicating towards his neck. "I will only voice my surprise that you are not aware that Lieutenant Phiora and I are in a relationship."

Spock's brain told his feet to leave quickly. Yet his feet did not respond. And the reaction he witnessed as a result of not moving was vaguely...bizarre.

Bones stared at him silently for what seemed to be an eternity before snapping himself out of it and leaning against his desk to steady himself. Just as Spock was beginning to think the doctor had a stroke, it happened.

"It's my fault, isn't it?"

Spock jumped, startled. "Doctor?"

"I should _not_ have invited you to that goddamn museum. It clicked then, right? I watched you two when you were standing by the marble-brain-thing. I never thought I'd see something like that."

The Vulcan was intrigued by the doctor's strange reaction to this. "What did you see?"

"I saw two people who should have been together from the moment they met."

Absently, Spock reached up and placed a hand on his own neck again. "Yet you are upset."

Bones firmly shook his head. "I'm not upset. I'm just sick and tired of Jim's stupid-ass ideas _always_—_working_—_out_!" He paused and blinked. "So yeah, I'm upset!"

Spock turned to leave again. "I will leave you to yourself, then."

"Goddamn Vulcan!"

"It was a pleasure seeing you as well, Doctor."

* * *

Spock unfortunately had nothing that wouldn't violate the uniform that he could use to cover the unfortunate souvenir of his date with Phiora. As he journeyed to the transporter room, he hoped people would only think...no, he knew it was no use. Anyone he was going to encounter that day knew he had green blood. They would see the bruise and figure out more or less what it was.

As planned, Scotty was waiting for him.

"Alrigh', Mr. Spock, we 'ave the coordinates for the landin' party ta beam down, all what needs ta 'appen yet is—oi!"

Spock raised an eyebrow at the Chief Engineer, who was staring at him in a mixture of horror, confusion, and pure fascination. "Is something wrong, Mr. Scott?"

"Tha' thing ye got on yer neck, lad...the 'ell is it?"

"I do not see how it is any of your concern or relevant to the matter at hand."

"But it's blinkin' at me!"

Spock clasped his hands behind his back. "It is simply a coagulation of blood under the skin originating from capillaries in the epidermis that have been broken due to a fair amount of pressure." He paused and coated his voice with steely suggestion. "Like a vacuum."

Scotty took a moment to process the Spock-Speak. "Oh..._oh_! Oh, I see...what's 'er name?"

"Mr. Scott—"

"Aye, I know, I know. I'm only pullin' yer leg."

Spock exhaled through his nose, his stance becoming more rigid. "I will inform the captain that when we begin orbit we can beam down." With one last glare, he left.

* * *

When Spock arrived on the bridge, he strode over to the helm. "Status?"

"Meester Spock, we hev been cleared to...." Chekov faltered for only a second, having looked up and seen the anomaly on the commander's neck. "...To orbeet Beylon, sir."

"Very good, Mr. Chekov."

A small silence erupted between them, and slowly Chekov opened his mouth to speak, knowing he shouldn't ask, knowing it was none of his business—

"Do not," Spock said sharply, turning and walking away.

Sulu started shaking with laughter.

Jim arrived just as Spock started to head back to the transporter room. "Let me guess," he chuckled, catching the irritated huff from his First Officer, "everyone noticed."

"Indeed."

"I just have one question for you," the captain asked, running a thumb over his own nose as if he were about to fight and folding his arms over his chest. "Why didn't you just...use the com?"

He made the intelligent choice not to mention the utterly horrified expression on the Vulcan's face.

* * *

Phiora watched as the first landing party entered the transporter room. It consisted of Spock, Jim, Bones, Chekov, and someone she'd only seen in passing; Ensign Mortimer, she remembered. She got onto the pad and waited.

She smiled at Spock, who held warm eyes to her and inclined his head, stepping onto the platform beside her. She admired his profile from his hair—obsidian and shiny, immaculately tended to and, as she had the privilege of discovering, very soft—to his features—beautifully angular with very expressive eyes—to his jaw—her third favorite area on his head that she loved to kiss—to his neck....

Her eyes locked on the dark green spot and widened. "Oh, sh—"

They were completely gone before she could finish that sentiment.


	22. The Iqeran Finqsi

_**Twenty-Two:  
**_**The Iqeran Finqsi**

The second everyone's atoms were back in their respectful places on Beylon, Phiora grabbed Jim and whispered something in his ear. As she informed him of the situation he nodded seriously and glanced over to Spock. He whispered something back and Phiora nodded as well.

Once that huddle was over, Phiora gently took Spock's arm and led him away from the landing party and behind a curiously constructed building, where she immediately let go and tugged her ponytail nervously.

"I am so sorry about that—"

Something loosened and tightened in the half-Vulcan all at once. "Do not apologize—"

"Spock, don't pull any of that suppressive bullshit and be level with me, right here, right now!" she hissed, and he noticed with interest that she looked anxious. "Get angry! Almost everyone on the _Enterprise_ knows what happened last night, and that is _way_ more than you want anyone ever to know about you!"

"I do not think it is wise to provoke me; it will only result in speaking to you in a manner of which I do not wish to do so."

"Do it," she murmured—almost pleaded. The truth only she knew was that she hadn't the slightest of how this would all end. And that made her nervous.

Spock took that bit of permission and ran with it. "You should have been careful," he clipped, managing to keep indifference while his voice betrayed the snappishness he adopted suddenly. "You are _very_ aware of the questions that arise upon sight of such an abnormality, _especially_ on this particular location. It was careless and inconsiderate, and I have _never_ been so humiliated in my entire life."

Phiora's head abruptly felt like the blood supply was cut off. As he berated her, she kept a steady mantra going in her head: _He_'_s only letting off steam. He_'_s only letting off steam. This is for his own good. He means none of it._

But after he was finished, a break in that mantra showed on her face, and Spock identified it straight away.

"Admittedly I feel liberated, yet as I look at you I realize I have offended you."

Only a little. "No!" Phiora said sharply, afraid he would shut down. She had been afraid of that since before they started their relationship, let alone after. "No, I'm fine. This is good; you expressed anger." She smiled. "This is really good."

Spock was about to also express his own feeling that Phiora was pulling suppressive bullshit when a voice interrupted him.

"I can fix that."

The couple turned their heads and saw a young man standing beside the corner of the building, pointed vaguely to Spock's neck. He had obviously just arrived; the clay dust at his feet hadn't quite settled yet. He wore what appeared to be a large grey Dashiki with elaborate navy swirls, shapes, and possible alien symbols decorating its entirety. Under it appeared to be a white long-sleeved shirt and loose trousers that matched the Dashiki. On his feet were sandals that resembled those of Gladiators. He wore nothing on his head—he was completely bald, and as Phiora kept her eye on him, she noticed there didn't seem to be a single hair on his paper-pale head or face at all.

"Sorry," the man said after an awkward silence, and he smiled in an embarrassed manner. He had perfectly white, straight teeth. "My name is Qlintik. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Fascinating," Spock murmured distractedly. "My subcutaneous translator is working, yet the structure of Beylorian speech seems to be similar to casual Terran English."

Phiora narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. She understood and was fluent in the Beylorian language and that was about it. She knew nothing of the culture yet, but already she was itching to learn more. "That's alright, Qlintik," she said in flawless Beylorian. "You said can fix his neck?"

Qlintik nodded. "I'm a healer in this city. Are you with the _Enterprise_ group that just arrived?"

It was Spock's turn to nod, and he and Phiora walked up to the man. Upon closer inspection, it became clear that the lack of hair wasn't the only different thing about him.

His irises and pupils were hexagonal, and his irises were alternating between being grey and light blue at an alarming rate.

"I am Spock," the science officer said after a bizarre moment with Qlintik's eyes. "This is Phiora."

He nodded and shook both of their hands with fervor. "Are you a Vulcan?" he asked Spock curiously.

Phiora watched Spock nod slowly, and then she watched Qlintik's face fall and his eyes turn a steady, deep indigo.

"I've heard about Vulcan. I'm really sorry."

_Sadness or sympathy must be conveyed by indigo_, Phiora heard Spock think. She nodded absently. _I suppose the rapid changing of blue to grey indicates embarrassment or—_

"Can you get rid of this?" she asked Qlintik, interrupting Spock's thoughts. She pointed to the hickey.

With a motion of his arm, the Beylorian led them away.

* * *

They all found themselves in a totally hemispherical building no bigger than the bridge of the _Enterprise_, the color that of concrete. In fact, that's the material it looked to be made of. Qlintik had no idea what concrete was, so it was quite obviously not concrete.

In the middle of the building—room?—there was a large polished stone resembling a chair. Some feet to the right of that was an addition of the wall that possibly functioned as a medical table for patients.

"Please sit," Qlintik murmured to Spock, rushing to another addition to the curved that looked like a safe without a dial. He turned the handle as Spock sat on the cool stone chair. It was literally cool; the minute he sat a chill ran through him, and he raised an eyebrow sharply.

What Qlintik pulled out of the safe caused Phiora to blink. It looked like a jar with an electronic lid, but the anachronistic vibe of the jar wasn't what caught her attention. The jar looked like it was breathing. Then the Beylorian brought it closer, and with a start the Onofrian realized the jar wasn't breathing.

The thousands of little insect-like creatures crawling around _inside_ it were breathing.

"Okay," she said, and cleared her throat because it rasped. "What the hell are those?"

Spock frowned and turned just as Qlintik came up beside him, and if Phiora wasn't so freaked out herself the expression on his face when he saw the jar would have made her laugh. He raised his eyebrows, but was otherwise nonplussed. It was the timing that was amusing.

She noticed with interest that Spock's finger twitched.

"These are called finqsi," Qlintik told her, pressing a few buttons on the jar and opening it. To Phiora's utter shock the bugs stayed inside. "They eat blood." He suddenly held the lid over the top and regarded Spock. "That's blood, right?"

"Indeed," he said slowly.

Phiora was beside herself. "They _eat_ blood?!"

Qlintik nodded as if he was encountered with that reaction on a daily basis. "Only coagulated blood like in bruises or clots. Finqsi are quite easily pleased; they accept blood of almost any race. I have never seen them eat Vulcan blood, however." He suddenly grinned happily, his eyes turning an eerie shade of goldenrod. "This should be exciting."

"How precisely...?"

"I'll place one on your neck, and it buries itself within your skin and just...eats away the bruise. It won't touch your veins, I promise. And it won't hurt. In fact...." Qlintik stopped and watched Spock's face as if he was internally contemplating what would happen to that face if he voiced his thought. "It'll surprise you," he decided to say.

Phiora suddenly knelt on Spock's other side. "I have a small problem with an alien insect burying itself in your neck," she said quietly.

As usual, Spock countered with, "Illogical. This man is a healer who quite obviously knows what he is doing. He has used this method before." He turned to Qlintik. "Proceed."

Qlintik silently used his pinky to scrape something off of the bottom of the lid and dabbed a small dot on Spock's neck, right on top of the gathered blood. With his index and thumb, he grabbed a finqsi and placed it near the gel-like substance on Spock's neck.

The insect looked like an ant with only one section of its body instead of three, and it had no antennae. The pincers, however, were actually one small blade-shaped structure that was possibly used for skin penetration. Under that was where the mouth probably was, since it ate the gel with an alarming speed. The little bug-scalpel then secreted a thin, amber liquid and the finqsi used its front legs to coat the entire thing with it. Phiora figured it was the substance used to stop whatever pain would normally take place during the process.

She was wrong. Sort of.

Before anyone could even figure out it happened, the finqsi forced itself into Spock's skin, and a hand snapped out to grab Phiora's arm. His eyes widened and his jaw clenched, but Phiora noticed with surprise that his gracefully pointed ears turned bright green and a light emerald blush crept onto his face and neck. His pupils dilated and he cleared his throat, closing his eyes and crossing his legs discreetly.

Oh. _That_ was what Qlintik was trying to say.

Phiora couldn't help it; she grinned. The grin was wiped off of her face, however, when she saw a dark spot moving around the deep green mark and as it spiraled inward, the spot began to disappear. It was actually really interesting to watch.

The finqsi must have still been using the substance, because Spock slowly dropped his head forward and frowned, trying very hard to quell the effect of the chemical but ultimately failing.

Qlintik patiently realized what was happening. "Just as I figured," he said. "The Vulcan chemical makeup is different, so the reaction is different." He set the jar on the table. "I'll leave to save some dignity. Just come get me when the finqsi emerges. It's going to get worse," he added under his breath but loud enough for Phiora to hear, then left, closing the door tightly behind him.

Phiora stood up and held Spock's head back gently. She noticed he was starting to perspire, which startled her since it usually took a _lot_ to get a Vulcan to sweat.

Then he opened his eyes.

She gasped at the emotion he conveyed as he looked at her. It ironically turned her legs to lead.

"What do you need?" she whispered.

At first, Spock said nothing.

* * *

Phiora opened the door and stepped outside, looking for Qlintik. She spotted him about ten feet away sitting at a round table and snacking on what was more than likely a Beylorian fruit that looked like an apple-sized green raspberry. She approached the table and surprised herself by sitting across from him.

"Has the finqsi emerged?" he asked, watching her face with hexagonal eyes and biting into the fruit again. It wasn't a messy fruit, she noticed vaguely.

Phiora nodded slowly.

There was a pregnant pause.

"The medical edifice is sound-proof," Qlintik said suddenly, and just as suddenly Phiora exhaled heavily and placed a relieved hand on his arm, letting her head fall onto the table.

When they returned, Spock was scrutinizing the medical edifice with his hands behind his back and absolutely no expression on his face, and the finqsi was sitting on his neck, noticeably fatter, not doing anything. It actually seemed bored.

"Alright," Qlintik declared, carefully removing the creature and opening the jar. "Time to say goodbye to your new friend."

As the finqsi was dropped back into the jar, Spock raised an eyebrow and watched the bugs crawl around the inside. He still remained expressionless, which concerned Phiora.

That concern was crushed when he spoke up.

"Would it be too much trouble to ask for a tour around the city?" he asked calmly.

Phiora blinked and admired his ability to pretend like he didn't just partake in what was probably the best sex of her natural-born life.

"Certainly not!" Qlintik exclaimed happily—his eyes sharply turning bright yellow—replacing the jar in the safe and leading them outside.

As the couple trailed behind, Phiora took Spock's arm and brought his ear down to her. "If pon farr is anything like that, I'm going to ask if I can take some of these finqsi back with us."

"What are you talking about?"

She lowered her voice even more. "You were a goddamn animal in there, Spock."

He stood straighter, recognizing what she was referring to. "I was not aware you preferred that demeanor."

"What?"

"I was just being myself," he said lightly.

Something akin to rigor mortis struck within Phiora and she stopped walking. Spock knew she did, yet he kept walking. She bent over and placed her hands on her knees, her eyes closed as a sudden wave of shock rolled through her.

"I am sleeping with the greatest man alive," she choked under her breath.


	23. Deep Chaos

_**Twenty-Three:  
**_**Deep Chaos**

_The _Enterprise_ was underwater. She wasn_'_t sure how that happened, but she could hear the groaning of water pressure within the walls of the ship as she made her way to a turbolift._

_It stopped at a floor but wouldn_'_t open. None of the controls would respond to her frantic attempts. None except one._

"_Where are you?_"

_Phiora nearly threw herself at the com. _"_I_'_m stuck, Jim. I don_'_t know what to do_..._._"

"_It_'_s fine, Phiora_..._everything_'_s fine_..._._"

_Suddenly she could see outside the lift, and Spock was passing by, and she knew this was her chance, so she slammed her fists against the door wildly. _"_Spock!_"_ she called, aware that water was rapidly leaking into the turbolift. _"_Spock!_"

_He stopped and pressed his ear to the doors. _"_Phiora?_"

_The water was at her ankles now. _"_Spock, I_'_m going to drown_..._._"

_He tried to pry the doors open, but they just wouldn_'_t budge. He only managed a sliver, and water rushed out, but the water level in the lift kept rising. _"_Phiora?!_"

_The water was in the middle of her shins. _"_Spock, open the doors!_"

"_I cannot!_"_ Water rushed onto his shins and into a worthless puddle at his feet. He slammed into the doors with his shoulder until the water hit the center of his thighs. Then he stopped and placed his hands on the doors. _"_Phiora_..._._"

_She pressed herself to the doors as the water hit her waist. _"_Spock_..._Spock, don_'_t give up._"

_Spock looked as terrified as a Vulcan could muster, and with a sudden burst of adrenaline, he stuck a few fingers in between the doors and used all his strength as a Vulcan to pry the doors hand-width apart._

_The water was up to Phiora_'_s shoulders. _"_Spock!_"

_The exiting of the water was soaking him, but he didn_'_t care. He stuck an entire half of his body into the larger opening and _pushed_. He ignored the green liquid running down his arms from the cuts on his hands. The doors started to crumple under the pressure._

"_Spo—_"

_The water was coming down on his head now, which meant it was well over her head. _"_PHIORA!_"_ he roared, giving an almighty push and ripping one of the doors off. The water exploded out of the lift and onto Spock, effectively knocking him over, but not before he grabbed Phiora._

_He regained himself and held her across his lap, feeling for a pulse. There was none. He performed CPR quickly, but he got no response._

"_No,_"_ he murmured, not stopping the CPR. After a minute he stopped. _"_Do not_..._please come back._"_ His lack of expression started to break, and he began to cringe, helplessly holding Phiora_'_s lifeless head on his lap. _"_Phiora_..._I am so sorry_..._._"

_Spock started to sob over her, ignoring the sudden red alert blaring through the corridors. After his mother_'_s death, losing Phiora was the necessary push._

"_Phiora_..._Phiora_..._._"

'_Phiora. Awaken._'

Her eyes snapped open and she took a deep breath to let out a scream, but Spock—who was hovering over her with his fingers at her meld points—used his other hand to cover her mouth.

'_Do not be afraid anymore. I am here._'

She took a few moments to calm down, and once he saw she was calmer, he released both hands and placed them on the bed by her shoulders. Phiora noticed he was straddling her, using his weight to pin her down.

"Sp-Spock...what happened...?"

He was frowning in the darkness, and Phiora realized that they were in a room she didn't recognize. "You were thrashing about with a nightmare. I melded with you to pull you out of it." He paused. "I saw I was too late."

Phiora breathlessly remembered they were on Beylon, in a room Qlintik offered them. The room was a separate building much like the medical edifice, as most "rooms" on Beylon were. She pressed her head back against the pillow and watched Spock's face. "What happened?" she asked again, noting that he was staring through her at this point.

At first Spock looked away. Then he looked back. "You stopped breathing."

The Onofrian froze. "And you got scared. I could feel it."

He gracefully rolled off of her and she sat up. "I merely found it necessary to make sure you started breathing again."

Phiora grabbed his wrist and pulled his face so close to hers she could almost hear his blood rush into his ears and brain. He stared _deep_ into her eyes and clenched the hand whose wrist was captured. They stayed that way for what seemed to be an eternity.

"Let me go," he whispered.

"No," Phiora whispered back.

Again, they were silent, and Spock's breathing began to quicken. It wasn't until the sunlight reached the window at the pole of the room that Spock spoke again.

"You cannot change who I am."

Phiora closed her eyes and released him. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, failing to keep the tears away. She felt Spock's arms snake around her and he pressed her into the bed almost protectively. He kissed her temple in a chaste gesture and then the area above her ear. "I don't know what happened."

Spock gently hushed her. "Do not apologize. Go back to sleep. I will be here when you awaken."

It took a lot of courage and willpower, but Phiora finally wrestled her eyes shut and drifted away, feeling considerably better with Spock curled over and around her like a safety blanket.

* * *

"This is weird."

Leonard was only vaguely aware of the other voice in his room-building, and he grunted and buried his face in his pillow, shrugging it off as a dream. Why his dream voice sounded like Jim, he wasn't sure, but that added more motivation to get rid of it by dreaming something else.

"Like, usually, you're waking me up at the ass-crack of dawn for some bizarre shit like...doing my job."

Motherfucking hell. That was definitely Jim's voice. And it was definitely not a dream. And it was definitely trying to wake him up. Bones pried his eyes open and looked out the ceiling window.

And it was definitely the ass-crack of dawn.

"Jim," Bones groaned, closing his eyes. "Go away."

That was when the captain got hands-y. He grabbed the sheets that were keeping the doctor comfortably warm and yanked them off, followed by an unwarranted attack to the ankles in attempt to literally drag him out of bed.

"Goddammit!" Bones swore, not expecting that particular amount of strength from his younger friend as he desperately clawed the bed for some form of a grip. He failed, and Jim succeeded in dragging him halfway off the bed. He was now on his knees with his arms splayed across the mattress in an almost prayer-like posture.

Jim grinned. "Now, now, from that position you wouldn't want to say nasty things like that, would you?"

"The minute we set foot on the ship I'm shoving a hypospray in your throat and letting you experience a _real close_ brush with death," the CMO spat dangerously, standing and dusting his knees angrily.

He didn't miss the falter in the smug grin. And that alone was worth the effort.

"Uh...a-anyway," Jim continued, swallowing. "It's going to be a long day for you and Spock today, so—" He was interrupted by the visible stiffening of McCoy's neck. Jim sighed. "So you might wanna get ready. I don't know why you still hate him so much, especially after that museum trip and the super-compliment he gave you during briefing."

Bones slowly shook his head and replaced the sheet on the bed. "I don't hate the pointy-eared bastard," he murmured so quietly the captain nearly didn't catch it.

"Well, good," he said in a chipper tone that made Bones want to strangle him.

What didn't happen was the noting of the alternate expression on the doctor's face as he focused on the bed, nor the flicker of understanding on the captain's face as he watched the doctor focus on the bed.

* * *

Beylon's sun was still relatively low in the sky by the time the ship's time system reached 1130, which caused for cooler air and a slight breeze through the city the _Enterprise_ crew came to know as Tektr. It was nice for the humans and Beylorians at the science edifice. Not so much for the Vulcan.

Spock was looking into a magnifier at the outer appearance of a rock of aurilium when a noticeable shiver ripped through him. Bones caught it from across the room.

"You getting chilly over there?" he asked indifferently.

Spock straightened his spine while still somehow bent over the magnifier. "I am fine."

A few Beylorian scientists in varying colored Dashikis entered the edifice and dropped a giant pot on the table, only inches away from Spock's hand.

"This will be used to liquidize the aurilium," a bald man in red told him. "It takes five seconds to boil water."

"How much will this hold?"

"Around one-hundred pounds."

Bones watched Spock's eyes dart around in front of him. "Then it will take five-point-three hours to liquidize one-hundred pounds of aurilium. The total time to liquidize and further convert the amount of the substance we require in addition to the retrieval of said substance from the deposits will be...thirty-one days, four hours—"

"It'll take a really long time," Bones interrupted patiently. To his surprise, Spock nodded once in agreement.

A scientist in a deep brown Dashiki with aqua-colored patterns clasped his hands together. "We'll inform our council leader of your intended stay. I can't imagine him being less than pleased."

"Who's the Iqeran council leader?"

The bald man in a lavender Dashiki smiled. "The one your captain spoke to; Mkeerkiq."

Spock stood up straight. "He is a pleasant individual," he said more to the doctor than anyone. "I suspect he won't mind our extended stay." Another shiver almost knocked the Vulcan off his feet.

Bones gritted his teeth, but waited until Spock and the scientists finished their whatever and the Beylorians made their leave.

"Spock," he hissed. "If you don't do something you'll get hypothermia."

Though he was focused on the aurilium sample once more, Spock raised an eyebrow. "Doctor, I believe I informed you that I am fine."

"Your fingers are turning brown, damn you!"

Spock looked down at his hands and his eyes widened a fraction of an inch. "So they are."

Bones grunted and removed his coat, tossing it to the Vulcan. He was rewarded with a strange look and the blatant miss of the coat, resulting in it hitting the ground at his feet pathetically. There was a silence in which Spock scrutinized the expression on the doctor's face and another shiver caused him to grip the edge of the table.

"Spock. Put on the fucking coat."

The tone, not the words, startled the science officer, and after determining that Bones was pretty much pleading, he picked up the coat and slipped it on. He didn't take his observing eyes away from his colleague's face.

No...that kind of worry warranted a higher title.

He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows as if to say, "There. Happy?" and he slowly hugged himself within the coat, feeling significantly warmer already.

McCoy shook his head sharply. "Green-blooded bastard."

Spock's lips curved upwards.

* * *

It was 1500 exactly when Jim Kirk beamed back down into Tektr after a visual check-up on Scotty's progress with the weapon. It was 1500 and four seconds when Jim Kirk realized some kind of hell was happening in front of him. There was a small gathering of Beylorians on the left, crouching over something he couldn't see. On the right stood Spock, his fists clenched and a very pissed-off look on his face. Bones was holding his arms back and a few other Beylorians were attempting to hold the Vulcan back, which was superfluous since Spock was absolutely stock-still save for the heavy, steady rise and fall of his chest.

"The hell is going on?" Jim asked loudly. All eyes turned to him, even Spock's.

"Captain," Spock said evenly, though he was clearly still on the livid side of the spectrum. "I must convince you that what just transpired was somewhat of an accident."

Bones grimaced. "He's sort of right, Jim. His body temperature is way lower than it should be, and it's making his brain go barmy."

The captain blinked several times. "Can someone tell me what it was that happened sort of accidentally with some kind of purpose?"

The Beylorians on the left spread out a bit, and Jim's blood froze as he saw Qlintik on the ground, his elbows resting on his knees which were slightly drawn up and his hand at his nose. The hand was covered in a dark blue liquid, and his eyes were flashing red and yellow.

"Shit," Jim hissed after he caught a glimpse of the same liquid on Spock's fist. "Spock, you _punched Qlintik_?!"

The silence that followed was answer enough.


	24. Where Few Vulcans Have Gone Before

**I have enabled anonymous reviewing. Also, I am posting this chapter earlier than normal because I'm not particularly fond of it and I want it over with.

* * *

**

_**Twenty-Four:  
**_**Where Few Vulcans Have Gone Before**

The captain of the _U.S.S. Enterprise_ found himself staring the Devil right in the eye as he keenly observed and assessed the damage laid out in front of him. First things first; make sure Qlintik was alright.

"Hey, buddy," he said comfortingly as he kneeled beside the young Beylorian. "You okay?"

The six-sided irises turned yellowish-green. "Yeah. I'll be fine."

"You sure?"

"Yes, Captain Kirk."

After a few more reassurances, Jim rounded on his half-Vulcan friend.

"What the hell, Spock?!" He threw his hands in the air. "I'll grant that you're cold," he said, noting the light brown hue of his lips. "But there had better be one _hell_ of a good reason for you to clock the guy who went out of his way to help you when you were...when you needed it!" He narrowed his eyes, throwing all of his authority into his mannerisms. "I'm serious! On a scale of 'I Felt Like It' to 'Armageddon,' I expect this reason to be around the 'Universal Existence Depended on It' side."

"Jim, give the man a break; he's just a few steps away from becoming a Vulcan popsicle."

"I don't care! He—" Mid-sentence, Jim stopped, his finger raised in the air and inches away from Spock's face. He frowned, then looked over to the doctor, who was still holding Spock's arms hostage. "What?"

"Dammit, Jim, he's freezing! The temperature down here is cooler than the standard temperature on the ship, and his body isn't used to that!"

The captain shook his head vigorously as Bones spoke. "No, no, I _know_ that! Do you realize you're standing up to _me_...for _Spock_?"

"Of course I realize that!"

Spock shrugged, attempting to free himself from the older man. He was released, and he rolled his shoulders to stop the dull ache in the muscles. "Captain, if I may interrupt your fascinating quarrel with the doctor momentarily, I would like to know which method of punishment I will be receiving for my actions."

Jim eyed Spock for a second. The way he said that made it sound like he dealt out torture like a deck of cards, which unsettled him a bit. He glanced back over at Qlintik, who was standing and wiping the blood off his hand with a cloth, unaware of the conversation going on a few yards ahead. Jim then looked at Bones.

"You checked him out?"

"Sure did. Qlintik got lucky; just a pop in the nose was all. Nothing's broken."

"And Spock?"

Bones nodded. "Scanned him with a tricorder. He's not in check because he's too cold. He just needs to adjust his internal thermostat."

As if on cue, Spock shivered heavily despite the coat he was wearing. The captain found this more unsettling than the whole torture-for-punishment bit, especially as he discovered the Vulcan presence was remarkably intact.

There was a contemplative silence as Jim and Spock watched each other. Then Kirk sighed through his nose. "Tell Scotty I sent you back to the ship. Go warm up. When you're better, come back down and get back to work."

With a curt nod, Spock took the communicator Jim held out to him. After a brief connection with the ship, Spock was beamed back aboard.

Jim was left to watch Bones curiously. "You're lucky he hasn't caught on to you," he muttered, unable to hide the grin that pushed its way through his frustration. He shook his head and turned to talk to Qlintik about what was happening.

Bones stood there silently for an instant, then quickly swallowed down the remnants of his breakfast that had threatened to make an appearance after Jim's statement.

* * *

Phiora entered her quarters an hour later to find thick clouds of steam pouring in from the opening in her bathroom doors, accompanied by the distinct sound of sonics at work. After discovering that a pile of clothing was what kept it from shutting all the way, she frowned.

"Spock?"

The sonics ceased and a moment of silence fermented between rooms.

"I apologize," Spock's voice said quietly from the bathroom. "Your quarters are closer in proximity than mine."

Phiora approached the doors and crossed her arms, facing away. "What's wrong?"

"My body temperature lowered to a perilous level," he explained, and by the sound of it, he still made no move to leave the shower. "I was not in control. I struck Qlintik."

Phiora's stomach dropped dramatically. "You _what_?"

The sound of the shower door opening was her only reply for a few seconds. "I had to regulate my natural temperature."

"You hit Qlintik."

"I have already said I lost control."

The lieutenant looked up and wondered how the hell he managed to dress back into science blues so quickly. For a second she wondered if he changed in the shower. "Why'd you do it?"

"Phiora, your questions are merely repeats of the previous one," he murmured, picking his discarded clothes off of the floor to allow the doors to shut.

"Then you don't understand the question. You said your body temperature dropped and you lost control and hit Qlintik. You didn't say your body temperature dropped and _as a result_ you hit Qlintik."

Spock slowly exhaled through his nose. Unfortunately Phiora missed the graphic internal battle going on behind his eyes as he debated mentioning the source of the issue. "After the finqsi emerged and you had gone to retrieve him, I stepped out for a moment and witnessed you touch his arm."

"With my hand."

"With your fingers."

"Are you serious?!"

Spock dropped his clothes in the hamper and stood with his back straight. "I am."

Phiora shook her head sharply as if doing that would shake everything away. "Wait...so ever since then you thought I was cheating on you? No, you can't be serious." She looked at his face for any sort of crack in the stoic mask. There was none. "You can't _possibly_ be."

"The evidence had been apparent to me."

The Onofrian laughed sardonically. "So now I'm cheating on you with anyone I touch with my fingers? Spock, I'm a hands-on person, and you know that." She narrowed her eyes. "You're being ridiculous."

Spock lowered his gaze to the floor. "You used your middle and index fingers."

Phiora's breath hitched. "Spock," she forced, her eyes becoming moist. "Why would you ever think I would extend that gesture to anyone else but you?"

He turned his back to her and paced away a few steps, holding his hands behind him. When he turned back to her, he still said nothing. She watched him with interest and—no point in lying—a bit of hurt. A muscle in his jaw ticked as he regarded her.

"Spock," Phiora murmured, her voice wavering as she mentally cursed the rebel tear sliding down her face. "I would never, in this lifetime or the next, do something that painful to you. Why do you think I would?" _Get back over here_.

"I have the impression that our relationship is still on unstable ground," he answered, walking very slowly towards her again, and she wondered if he heard her thought somehow. "I am not certain of how close I am to you and how close you are to me. I need a foundation, and bearing witness to the interaction between you and Qlintik has left me to wonder if there is, in fact, a foundation to discover."

Something white-hot flared inside of Phiora for a brief millisecond, and spots danced merrily before her eyes. She blinked rapidly and shook her head, clearing it.

"You need a foundation? I'll give you a fucking foundation." She lifted her chin. "Spock, I'm in love with you. That should be enough proof that I would rather get sucked into a black hole than cheat on you or hurt you in any way. You mean so much more to me than anyone I have ever known. I can't see myself with anyone else, and I don't _want_ to see myself with anyone else. If I could give you my entire soul—every part of me that remotely matters—you would just need to ask...once...and it would be yours." She paused, then continued. "I want you to feel the same way. But if you don't, tell me right now. Right now, so I can deal with it while I'm angry. If you tell me later it just might physically kill me."

The Vulcan was immobile as Phiora patiently awaited a response.

* * *

Jim sighed as he made his way out of the aurilium deposit and onto ground that wasn't sparkly or purple. He had sent his last contribution of the day to the science edifice for conversion, which he remembered almost guiltily, was his doctor friend's one-man show while Spock was recuperating on the ship. Although, since something clearly happened for Spock to accept Bones as a friend, the doctor was more than likely going to do inconspicuous back-flips for him. The irony made the young captain chuckle to himself as the forest of magenta crystalline rocks got farther away.

Earlier he had told Qlintik that Spock was, in more words, uncomfortable on Beylon, which was why he lashed out at him. The Beylorian readily accepted this explanation while Jim himself had doubts. He knew Spock's physiology was sensitive to climate change, but there was something else going on beneath the surface. He'd find out sooner or later, and knowing the science officer it was going to be later rather than sooner.

Just as his thoughts drifted over to Bones again, Jim felt the familiar tingle in the air of someone being beamed down in front of him. The brief recollection that the tingle he felt were millions of atoms brushing past him made him shudder, but was quickly forgotten when he recognized the outline to be Spock's.

"Well," he said apathetically once the Vulcan solidified, "everything in working order again?"

Spock nodded and placed his hands delicately behind his back. Jim noticed with some alarm that his First Officer was giving off his own classic signs of being upset, and he quickly dropped the "I'm Still Pissed at You" front and relaxed his shoulders. "Are you okay?"

"Phiora and I encountered one another on board, and I informed her of the situation between myself and Qlintik." He and Jim set off towards the edifices, the alien's shoulders not in their usual stiff position. "She was not happy."

Jim suddenly grabbed his arm and stopped him. "No...no, you guys haven't split, have you? Please say no."

Spock regarded his captain's horrified expression with a bemused one of his own and shook his head. "If your aim was to ask whether or not we have ended our relationship, no, we have not. In fact, it solidified."

Jim closed his eyes, relieved. When he opened them again, he took a deep breath and let go of Spock's arm. "What do you mean by that?"

They continued walking for a few steps as Spock gathered himself enough to speak, and when he did, his voice was quiet and reflective. "Phiora confessed that she is in love with me." He felt the air around Jim stiffen. "She was being very emotional." _I never want her to stop_.

"Did she give you a chance to respond?"

"Yes."

The edifices were only a few feet away, yet seemed so much farther.

"What did you say?"

"I said I returned the feelings."

Jim grabbed his arm again, this time with not so much force, and he turned Spock to face him. Yet he said nothing. The storm of sentiment was choking him.

"My father informed me that he married my mother because he loved her," Spock opened up, and he noticed with fascination that Jim was more than willing to absorb the bit of inner self he offered. "When I was a child on Vulcan, I was not certain of what the word meant. When Father told me he loved my mother, I realized love is not a word. Love is the sheer determination and firepower behind any being's motives. I had missed it at the time, but in hindsight...love is the driving force of living entities. Vulcans have bondmates, therefore the desire to be close enough to our loved one that we _are_ our loved one is fulfilled. This is why I have not previously understood why love causes humans to do uncivilized things.

"Humans cannot become one with their mates in the same way Vulcans can, which creates constant pain in the face of joy. They reach out...yet come up short."

Spock pretended not to notice the tears pooled in Jim's eyes. "How did you find all of this out, Spock?"

The First Officer raised an eyebrow. "I am half human, and I believed someone was attempting to set himself between myself and Phiora." That would be discussed later, both men knew. "As a testament to my human half, I believe it is safe to say, as you would, that I went 'ape-shit.'" He clasped his hands behind his back and calmly watched his captain. "Though I do not understand how the excrement of a primate applies to the situation."

Those goddamn eyes sparkled with a smile.

Jim stared at him.

Then he laughed. Hard.

* * *

**Spock's love speech really bothers me, because I can't properly describe the feeling. It's indescribable.**

**And I'm really angry at his eyes because they're so fucking amazing.  
**


	25. Effects Affect

_**Twenty-Five:  
**_**Effects Affect**

It wasn't until three days later that Spock finally explained to Jim what happened. Throughout the explanation the captain merely listened. His First Officer seemed to be in a constant good mood—as close to one as someone with fifty percent Vulcan blood would come to grips with—and he didn't want to deter that in any way. It was too awesome in all senses of the word.

But as the third week on Beylon rolled by, Jim noticed Spock was tightly winding himself. Fortunately the reason was clear; before Spock had beamed back down to work after their argument, he and Phiora decided to spend the rest of the time on the foreign planet apart to not only let their solidified relationship sink in, but to put to work the age-old adage, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder."

Luckily and unluckily Jim was present when Bones decided to recite that precise saying to Spock.

They were supervising the last bit of aurilium being retrieved from the deposit, so there were tens of Starfleet uniforms and Dashikis running around, laser-cutting the minerals free, scanning them with tricorders, and dumping them into the anti-gravity cart. The captain, First Officer, and CMO stood at the mouth of the semi-underground tunnel.

A Beylorian carrying an armful of small crystals stumbled past the trio. Spock audibly cracked his knuckles, which was in itself a strange occurrence.

"Gettin' a little restless there, Spock?" Bones asked, grinning, bouncing lightly on his heels.

"I have not spoken with Lieutenant Phiora in—"

"Quite a few days," Kirk interrupted before Spock could stab them with exact numbers. Those things could leave one hell of a mark.

Bones crossed his arms, a smug grin surfacing. "It's really buggin' ya, isn't it? I've never seen you this uptight before and Lord is that saying something."

Spock replaced his hands to their respectful place behind his back. "I do not understand your meaning."

He totally did. Bones and Kirk exchanged a glance, and Bones shrugged almost gleefully. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder."

Jim wanted so badly right then to point to Spock's face and shout, "That face is reserved for _me_!" because he was, in fact, well acquainted with the "Only You Would Say Something That Utterly Brainless, You Idiot," as he so lovingly—and secretly—referred to it. Though something told him that at the moment, the words were not Utterly Brainless, but Utterly Illogical. The thought made him laugh.

Spock and Bones both looked over at him, and he shrugged.

"Inside joke with myself," he answered glibly.

But then Spock turned to face forward again, impassiveness riddling his features, and Jim saw from the corner of his eye that Bones was looking at the science officer's ear. Subtly.

Then he realized he saw this peripherally because he was looking at the science officer's other ear. Also subtly.

The CMO and the captain slowly looked up and their eyes met behind Spock's head. After fifteen seconds of staring at each other in a rare display of facial communication, McCoy silently and slowly mouthed three familiar words.

_Pointy-eared bastard._

And that did it. Jim didn't care about the looks he got as a result—he laughed. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed. Then Bones started chuckling. Soon, the doctor pushed past Spock and leaned on Jim's shoulder, laughing until he had to hold his stomach.

Spock watched them, a single eyebrow introducing itself to his hairline, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

He would never in his long life ever know what they were laughing about. And it was probably just as well.

* * *

The Earth calendar said the _Enterprise_ had been in orbit over Beylon for a month when the last of the converted aurilium was sent up. There was no big celebration, but the ripple of friendliness between the Beylorians and starship crew was felt by all, even Spock.

The half-Vulcan couldn't leave without taking care of something first. He requested a moment before beaming back to the ship, and he purposefully made a beeline for the medical edifice. He got to it and raised his fist to the door, ready to knock.

The door was raised before he even moved his wrist.

Qlintik stood in the doorway, watching Spock with a patient expectancy. Silently asking how he could help him. The hexagonal irises were a calm shade of lavender.

Spock opened his mouth and considered the things he could say, but nothing immediately came to his mind. More to the point, he had a feeling the Beylorian healer knew why he was standing in front of him, his hands stiffly grasped behind his back. It wasn't arrogant...it was like the friendship between Qlintik's race and the _Enterprise_ crew formed some sort of extrasensory link and the man just _knew_ why Spock was there.

Qlintik gave a small nod, his irises changing to a pleasant hue of orange.

Spock closed his mouth and bowed his head. Then he extended a hand.

Qlintik took that hand and shook it firmly, feeling warmth spread from his hand all over his body. Their hands were still connected, the dark brown eyes still holding the unique gaze of the apricot ones.

'_You have been very hospitable. Perhaps, in the future, we will meet again._'

It was an apology though the words Qlintik heard in his mind didn't blatantly say so. Somehow he knew how to respond, and he brought his own words to mind.

'_Forgiven, friend. I look forward to it._'

Spock smiled.

* * *

Phiora was very anxious to see Spock again. She knew he would be the last to board, so she waited a few more rotten minutes before practically diving into the nearest turbolift and punching the hell out of the button for the transporter deck. Figuring it would make the ride go faster—she'd started in one of the bottom levels of the ship—she began to scrutinize her nails. Two floors later, though, the lift stopped and opened.

When she looked up to see who was boarding, she froze.

"Lieutenant," Uhura said politely, pressing a different button.

Phiora inwardly sighed. They were both headed to the uppermost levels of the ship. Awkward Silence, please stand by for dispatch coordinates.

She didn't feel any animosity whatsoever towards the communications officer...except maybe that little one that was jealous of the title she carried with her. Otherwise, she had no reason to dislike Uhura. Phiora knew Spock and Uhura were still good friends, and her philosophy stood firm that any friend of Spock's was a friend of hers. However, that didn't necessarily mean there wouldn't be awkward moments.

"Do Onofrians have surnames?"

The question startled the younger lieutenant and she blinked a few times before answering. "Well...yes and no." _Don_'_t give me a questioning look_..._damn. _"Sometimes two people will have the same name, and the surname is only used to identify between them. We don't use it otherwise."

Phiora got the feeling at the base of her brain that these strange questions were going to lead somewhere doubly awkward as Uhura asked her next one. "Do you have one?"

"All of us do. Just in case."

_Don_'_t ask_..._._ "What's yours?" _Damn._

Phiora gazed at the ceiling and held it there when she realized that completing the eye-roll was definitely going to be noticed. "Nuccesvorgeronmasvacciocadverincyvilia."

Awkward Silence decided to take off a little earlier than scheduled. Uhura blinked once, twice, then closed her eyes, obviously trying to fit that monstrous name into her head. "If you only use your surname for one reason...."

"We like to overcompensate," Phiora said, allowing the genuine smile she felt to break through.

Uhura, to Phiora's relief, smiled as well. "I'm almost afraid to ask...."

"My mother's maiden name was Tuvincelloriarvingestegerneldevaccynevsyn."

"I'm starting to understand why you never use surnames." Uhura turned back towards the doors. "And I thought Spock's full name was bad."

And there it was.

"Lieutenant...."

"No, I'm...I'm sorry. That isn't like me." The dark-skinned woman folded her hands delicately in front of her. "I'm just pleased he found someone who can make him happy."

Both lieutenants glanced at each other sheepishly. _As happy as a Vulcan would let his psyche own up to_.

Uhura sighed. "You seem to care about him a great deal."

"I love him."

And that was when the turbolift came to the transporter deck and the doors opened graciously. With one last, genuine smile towards Uhura, Phiora walked away.

She heard, "I'm glad," called after her, and the Onofrian was mysteriously at peace as she made her way down the corridors.

* * *

"You didn't break the poor girl's ribs, did you?" Bones asked as Spock entered the conference room where the mission to Beylon had been discussed about a month earlier. "I've never seen a Vulcan hug anyone before so I don't know—"

Spock took his seat next to Jim and across from Scotty. "I assure you, the lieutenant's ribs are intact." The unspoken implication of that was not lost on Spock, who swiftly turned to the captain in order to change the subject, _pronto_. "You have called a conference to discuss the weapon, am I correct?"

"Yep," Jim answered, amusedly ignoring the slip-up as well. "We need to come up with a name for it. It gets a little confusing, calling it 'The Weapon' all the time."

"If I may," the First Officer calmly interjected, "I wish to suggest the Der'on Field. It was, as we found out on an earlier date, Admiral Der'on who conceived the designs and operation of the weapon, which is in essence a protective field."

The unspoken air in the room following Spock's words shifted quickly from 'What Did He Just Say?' to 'Oh, Right, That's True' to finally 'Holy Shit, That Makes Sense.'

"Well," Scotty declared, "tha' does it for me."

"Alright," Jim said lightly after Bones agreed. "That settles it. I'll contact the admiral and inform him of our decision. Pointless meeting adjourned, then."

Bones and Scotty went their separate ways as Spock and Jim headed up to the bridge. The two men didn't say anything on the way up, but then again their friendship pretty much reached the point of being comfortable with the other's silence.

The doors opened and the sight of the bridge hard at work spilled into the lift, boosting Jim's morale as he clapped his hands together and virtually skipped to his beloved chair. Spock manned the science station as per usual.

"Lieutenant Uhura, see what you can do to get Admiral Der'on's handsome mug on visual," Jim chirped jovially.

She smiled. "Yes, sir."

Jim Kirk had a weird way of injecting his happiness into others around him, as he just did, and usually the feeling had the intention to stay until for some reason someone attacked them. Since no one was attacking, the cheerfulness settled comfortably onto everyone's heads and shoulders and backs like a fine layer of snow.

Within five minutes the expansive screen housed the face of Admiral Der'on, who apparently sprouted a nice obsidian beard—adding to the lumberjack effect—and looked quite merry himself.

"Captain Kirk," his booming yet friendly voice broke through.

"Admiral," Kirk adopted his best authoritative voice and sat forward in his seat. "I wasn't aware the regulation allowed beards."

Der'on grinned. "Regulation says a starship captain may not grow a beard. I'm an admiral without a starship, and I can grow a beard whenever I damn well want to. Unless you want to retire early and give up your ship, you just mind your own beardless face."

Jim also grinned, immediately listing the admiral as his favorite Starfleet higher-up ever. "Alright, sir, fair enough. I actually got hold of you to tell you that if you have no objections we came up with a name for your weapon."

Surprise graced the admiral's masculine features. "Really? I hadn't thought of anything for it; what did you come up with, Captain?"

"The Der'on Field."

Spock straightened a little, the proud instinct getting the better of him. The admiral caught this.

"Did you come up with this, Commander?"

"I did, sir."

There was a small pause, then Der'on's face bust into a large smile. "I think that's a very appropriate name. Captain, I approve your christening of the Der'on Field."

"Here's hoping we won't need to use it, sir," Jim said, and though the words were a little more solemn, he kept his lighthearted manner.

The admiral whole-heartedly agreed, and after a few professional sign-offs, space once again stretched out in front of the _Enterprise_.


	26. The AK47

**Undoubtedly my favorite story arc of this fic.

* * *

**

_**Twenty-Six:  
**_**The AK47**

As Phiora made her way to the mess one morning later that week, she noticed with half-hearted fascination that the only thoughts invading her head were her own. She passed a few people on the way and had to actually try to read their minds, which she realized awkwardly that she shouldn't have been doing anyway.

_Hey,_ she reasoned as she stepped over the threshold into the mess, _when you can get out of something, get out of it._

A few moments later she joined Spock, Jim, and McCoy, who was animatedly talking into his coffee and earning a raised eyebrow from Spock and an endearing look from Jim that clearly said he was only listening to humor his friend yet he enjoyed every minute of it.

All manner of previous conversation flew out the port when Phiora sat down next to Bones—across from Spock—and regarded her food.

"You okay, Lieutenant?" McCoy asked, his coffee cup frozen in mid-air. "You look like you'll give that food right back if you eat it."

He was right. The food in front of her, which was toast and pancakes, actually looked and smelled quite disgusting to her the minute she sat down. She shook her head sharply and pushed the tray away from her. "I'm not hungry all of a sudden."

Bones whipped out a scanner from his pocket. "Want me to—"

"No, I'm fine," Phiora insisted, pushing McCoy's wrist away from her. "Just not hungry."

"Well, you look a little green," Jim said, and with a glance at Spock, added, "present company not relevant."

Spock still had his attention on Phiora yet raised an eyebrow at Jim's words.

Phiora shook her head again, only calmer this time. "I guess it's...you know." How to say it in front of three men? If it were just Bones, it wouldn't bother her as much. He was a doctor, dammit. Even Spock wouldn't have minded too much, since he's all about science and well, he was her lover so of course it could've been said. But Jim was more or less her brother.

She came up with a way to say it. "I should be reading minds involuntarily by the end of the day."

It was comical, the sudden comprehension that dawned on all three of the men's faces simultaneously. Thankfully those expressions were replaced by sympathy from Jim, empathy from Bones, and the usual nothing from Spock. He did touch the back of her hand discreetly though, which was quite sufficient for her.

The rest of breakfast was pleasant, with the conversation jumping around from topic to topic with almost no segues at all. By the start of shift Phiora was feeling considerably better.

She didn't notice Spock hadn't touched his food the entire time she didn't eat.

* * *

It wasn't even an hour into shift before something happened.

"Captain," Spock said to Jim from his place at the science station, peering into a monitor. "We appear to be entering an unknown area of space."

Jim looked up from the mysterious piece of lint he'd pulled off of his sleeve and frowned. "What?"

"I do not recognize these readings." Spock's graceful fingers danced over the controls, and he looked into the monitor again. "We are in uncharted territory."

Chekov jumped as if startled. "Keptin, we're epproachink a wessel."

Jim squinted at the screen as Phiora came to his elbow from seemingly nowhere. "Lieutenant, what are you doing here?"

"I don't know," she answered simply. "I just—"

The _Enterprise _lurched violently and shuddered, nearly sending everyone flying forward. Kirk took a sharp breath. "What the hell was that?"

Sulu frantically flipped switches and pressed buttons while Uhura suddenly worked controls on her console. "Sir, we've been stopped," Sulu informed him.

"_Stopped_? By what?"

"Sensors indicate we are being held," Spock answered evenly, "by a stationary tractor beam coming from the vessel."

"Sulu, magnify view times five."

"Aye, sir."

The screen was abruptly filled with an image of a vessel so dark in color nobody saw it at first. Just as the captain was going to order another magnification, eyes adjusted and simultaneously more than one person on the bridge started. The vessel was fairly large, yet the way it was shaped was what startled everyone the most.

It was like a giant brass urn, the broad end facing the _Enterprise_. The surface was excessively smooth and shiny, which possibly further accounted for the camouflage, and not a single opening or indicator of any kind of door was visible.

Uhura spoke. "Captain...the vessel's hailing us...."

"Open frequency."

"Sir...the voice is really unsettling."

Jim took a second, then nodded. "Open frequency," he repeated, his voice softer. Uhura nodded and pressed a few buttons on her console. The voice spoke.

"Do. Not. Go. Further."

Kirk glanced at Uhura, whose eyes were wide and locked right on him. As he looked around, he was suddenly aware that the voice seemed to have given _everyone _the heebie-jeebies. He couldn't blame them.

He also couldn't blame them for feeling like some pretty heavy shit was going to go down. Unless that was just him.

"This is Captain Kirk of the_ Enterprise_," Jim said, hoping diplomacy would work. "We're a peaceful vessel, and we mean no harm to—"

"We do not care. Who you are. Do. Not. Go. Further."

Kirk shuddered. That voice was definitely throwing him for a loop. "Alright, we'll go away if you tell us who _you _are."

Phiora tossed him a look that clearly asked why he valued his life so little.

"We do not. Respond. To worthless compromises. You. Will. Turn. Back."

Kirk looked over at Spock, who was standing over his console like nothing was happening. A little step to the left told the captain otherwise. The science officer was frozen mid-task, unmistakably listening to the voice and not liking it at all.

"L-listen," Jim said, internally kicking himself for betraying the fear stabbing into him via his spleen. "We're not hostile. We just want to know what you call yourselves. Once you tell us...we'll turn and leave."

Spock straightened his back sharply. "Captain, I do not agree with what it is you are attempting to accomplish and it is my firm suggestion that we turn this ship and depart from this area."

Translation: I will drop you like a sack of potatoes if I have to for this thing to get moving.

But James T. Kirk wasn't going to back down that easily, because he was an idiot.

"Who will it harm if we know what we're talking to?"

The look on Scotty's face as he turned around from his station told him _everybody_. But luck was in Jim's favor right then.

"You will refer to us. As AK47. Turn. Back. Now."

Kirk unfortunately didn't miss the tiny "oh God" that Uhura let run from her lips. Fortunately he did know why.

"Mr. Spock...references on anything in the past regarding those letters and numbers."

A few seconds later Spock turned away from his monitor. "Sir, I do not—"

"Just tell me what the hell you found."

If Jim wrote an entire list of things he would be very content to have never seen ever in his entire life, the look of resentment on Spock's face would have been around the top, right beneath Watching Vulcan Disappear and right above Watching Phiora Mourn Her Mother. It was so hard to look at he almost turned away. But he didn't.

"The AK-47 was an assault rifle developed in the mid-twentieth century by a Russian man named Mikhail Kalashnikov. Its circulation and usage was completely ended in the late twenty-first century." Spock's jaw muscle ticked. "It was considered one of the deadliest man-made weapons on the planet during its time."

Sulu dared a look at Chekov, who was clutching the control panel so hard his knuckles were pearly white. "Pavel...?"

"It is not...one aff Russia's nicer inwentions."

Kirk felt a pang of sympathy for the proud Russian, but he turned his attention to the matter at hand. "Um...guy? Are you still with us?"

"I am here. You should not be."

"Right, right, we'll go back now. But I want to know what we did wrong."

Spock was having none of it. "Captain, I insist that we not concern ourselves with motivation and proceed to vacate this area. I believe I speak logically when I say the name AK47 implies that this race could not possibly bring anything less than peril should we continue to provoke."

It amazed Jim how quickly that Vulcan level of calm came back to every aspect of the First Officer. He no longer seemed ready to knock something into next Tuesday.

"I'm just asking a simple question that can't hurt anyone."

"If you do, Captain, I will be forced morally to relieve you of duty for placing your entire crew in a perilous situation."

"Do not." The chilling voice broke into the bridge right as Jim was about to express offense or tell off his second in command—neither of which would have ended well. "Kirk. You have violated AK47 territory. It is too late to turn back now. However. If you assist our vessel. We shall let you go. Who was just speaking?"

Jim blinked. "Uh...Lieutenant Commander Spock." Pause. "He's the ship's science officer and my First Officer."

"Spock. Identify yourself."

Posture straighter than a board, Spock placed his hands behind his back. "I am Vulcan."

"Kirk. To assist our vessel. You must lend us. The Vulcan. And him alone."

That was when Jim remembered Phiora was still on the bridge. Mainly because she reacted before anyone else could.

"No," she said sharply, directing it right at the AK47.

"If you do not." Jim winced, knowing what was coming. "We shall destroy your ship."

Spock lifted his chin a fraction of an inch. "May I inquire your incentive for obtaining my presence?"

"You may not."

Jim's eyes slowly roamed over to Spock's face. "Fuck," he whispered under his breath, recognizing the rapid movement of the half-Vulcan's eyes as heavy contemplation. He knew he was too late when the dark-haired head tilted to say much of anything in order to prevent what was, in fact, inevitable.

That didn't mean he couldn't try.

"May I have a moment to speak with my captain?" Spock asked into the air.

"You may. If you do not return contact. You will be punished."

Uhura immediately muted the frequency and slumped little in her seat as if just knowing the bridge could be heard was a heavy weight on her back and her action just lifted it.

"Spock," Jim started as Phiora approached them. "Don't do this. They could kill you and then turn to us."

"At which instant you would simply activate the Der'on Field and be fully protected."

"Then why go in the first place?"

Spock raised both eyebrows. "Is it not logical to determine first whether their intentions are genuine? I assume they feel I withhold knowledge they require due to my race."

Kirk made a quick "shut-up" gesture towards Phiora, who opened her mouth to speak. "That's great. But no. I'm ordering you to stay here. The AK47 can just kiss my ass."

"Then they will attempt to destroy us."

"You just said the Der'on Field would put them in their places."

"Captain, it had only now occurred to me that if this race has knowledge of precedent weaponry enough to christen themselves in its honor, then I believe it to be logical to presume they do not have energy-based weapons."

"Fuck logic, Spock! You're not going!"

"I am afraid I will have to bypass your authority on the grounds that I believe this ship and her crew will be put in danger if I do not act."

"Spock, I swear, if you do it...."

There was a silence within the bridge. Spock lent his gaze to Phiora, who had just spoken. So did Kirk. Everyone else had their eyes on both of them...a back-and-forth movement as if the moment one of them looked away something would happen and they'd miss it. The emotion in Spock's eyes caused Phiora's chest to tighten.

"You will do what?" Spock said evenly. "If your intention is to inform me that if I go through with this you will end your relationship with me, I must remind you that if something happens—"

"Spock."

It was Jim. He had his eyes trained on his First Officer and a solemn expression on his face.

"Captain."

"Do us all a favor," he vaguely motioned to everyone watching them, "and don't force us to have that particular conversation. Especially don't force your girlfriend."

Spock gave a little start, as if he just remembered they were not alone on the bridge and he gave away too much information. He closed his eyes, turned his face to Phiora, and opened them.

"There is no other way," he said to Jim, but his eyes never left Phiora.

Right then the voice filled the room. "You have had. Quite enough time. Spock. Are you prepared to board?"

With a reluctant gesture from Kirk, Uhura just as reluctantly un-muted the frequency on which the AK47...leader was waiting. The captain cleared his throat.

"Will you return Spock in perfect health?"

"Yes."

Nobody was convinced. But Spock was right. There was no other way.

"I will be transported shortly," the half-Vulcan clipped, removing his hands from behind his back.

"Very well."

Uhura told Kirk the line was closed, and Spock turned to the turbolift, Jim and Phiora in tow. The minute the doors shut around them and the destination was voiced, Kirk observed the two as they stared each other down, and realized almost irately that Spock's face was unwavering while Phiora's conveyed anger, pain...and a hint of betrayal.

He suddenly wondered if they remembered he was in the lift with them.

"Why don't you just break my neck, Vulcan?" Phiora spat unmercifully, the tears evident in her voice.

"Killing you would be illogical, for I have grown accustomed to your presence and would suffer greatly if it were to be taken from me."

"But you're doing that to me by going."

Shit. Jim knew immediately where this was going, and he suddenly wished he hadn't followed them onto the turbolift. But, as captain—and a friend—he had to see his First Officer off safely, which made him understand why this scene was playing out directly in front of him. There would be no time for the couple to talk alone before Spock's departure, and they trusted him enough that he wouldn't interfere or destroy the confidentiality between them.

Spock clenched his fists at his sides and kept his focus on Phiora. "I have no choice," he said solidly.

"Yes you do!" Phiora exploded abruptly, her fists connecting with Spock's chest. "You're choosing to devastate me!" She thumped her fists against him again. "They're going to kill you—"_ Thud._ "—and I'll never see you again—" _Thud_. "—and you would have walked _right into it_!!"

She raised her fists again but a whir of blue, Spock grabbed her wrists and held them still. His face was calm. The rest of him was obviously calm. But those goddamned eyes of his....

"You are being irrational," he whispered, and Jim found himself agreeing on some level. As heavy as some of Phiora's emotions could get, this was definitely out of character. She had broken things during her emotional torrents over her mother, but she'd never attempted to break a _person_.

But then she collapsed, still being restrained by Spock. He quickly grabbed hold of her and held her up.

"I'll call Bones," the captain said, reaching for the com. He halted when Spock placed a gentle hand on his arm.

"She does not require medical attention," he said simply. "She is still conscious."

A quick glance told Jim the man was right. He also noticed how sentimental the situation seemed to become. He politely yet subtly turned away.

The lift stopped and the doors opened a few seconds later, and Jim was suddenly very aware of how uncomfortable he was, so he gunned it out of there and waited in the transporter room. He was greeted to a technician informing him that Uhura relayed the situation to them and the coordinates were obtained.

Spock entered the room not too long afterwards. He was alone.

"Where's—"

"Her words were 'I need to get away from this'," Spock answered promptly. "She returned to the bridge."

Jim scowled. "You mean she's not going to say goodbye?" _After almost punching holes into your chest?_

"Jim." Spock positioned himself on the transporter pad, his voice curiously assuring. "It is illogical to say goodbye if no one plans to leave."

And with a quiet "Energize," he was gone.


	27. Now It's Something Else Entirely

_**Twenty-Seven:  
**_**Now It**'**s Something Else Entirely**

When the turbolift doors opened and revealed Jim to the bridge, the already uncomfortable silence grew more uncomfortable. It was unbearable for everyone. Phiora was the only one not staring at the captain as if he would suddenly start shooting them down with his phaser. She was the only one not looking at him at all.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him take two steps into the bridge. She felt his eyes on her. She wasn't sure what he felt. It didn't matter, though, because his quiet, solemn words were directed to Uhura.

"We still have contact?"

Uhura nodded slowly. "Muted, sir."

Her voice was tired for everyone.

"Un-mute." She did. "Hey, guy," he said loudly, his voice rasping a bit. He cleared his throat and swallowed. "Did Spock get there safely?"

"He is unharmed. We will return Spock. When we are finished with him."

Phiora closed her eyes.

"When is that, exactly," Kirk asked in a near whisper.

"It is none of your concern."

That sentence strangled everyone in the bridge. _Everyone_. And nobody could say a damn thing without running the risk of _someone_ dying or at least getting seriously injured. Apparently for Jim, though, the urge was too great. The AK47 leader continued, but Kirk quickly made a gesture for Uhura to mute the frequency again, and he leaned against the back of his chair, almost hugging it. But that grip was not love or appreciation for the chair. It was fear for Spock.

"If Spock behaves." The AK47 leader boomed. "He will be allowed. To make contact with the _Enterprise_. For a short while."

If Kirk heard this, he didn't show it. He turned his head to the ceiling and shouted, "How is it none of our concern, you obnoxious assholes?!"

Fortunately, since the frequency was muted on their end, he was not heard by the AK47.

"Of _course_ it's our concern! It's our _only_ concern...!"

Phiora finally looked at Jim, who had trailed off to a barely significant end for that sentence. He looked around and rubbed his face.

"I'm sorry. Just a mind slip," he muttered to everyone, waving a hand dismissively. "It won't happen again."

Suddenly Phiora felt horrible for Jim. He was clearly upset, as he had just shown, but as captain he couldn't openly express such vulnerability in a time like this. It was dangerous if he did. He knew that. But one of his best friends was being held essentially as a prisoner on a ship nobody knew anything about, run by a race nobody knew anything about, and that race wouldn't tell him the information he needed to relax and tell himself over and over than everything was going to end up fine.

_If he dies, it will be my fault. I will have single-handedly destroyed you both and myself._

Phiora's heart sank at the thought directed specifically to her, but she couldn't address it. Especially since a new mantra enveloped Jim's conscious with heavy determination. It just about knocked her off her feet.

_He will be fine. He will be FINE. He. Will. Be. Fine._

And it was gone. Just like that, the helplessness disappeared and was replaced by Jim Kirk's patented confidence and splash of humor. Somehow he had the energy to mimic the AK47 in his head. Somehow he pulled himself out of that recess and into the light, using nothing but a few bits of information.

Phiora closed her eyes again.

* * *

Four hours without any word floated by at an excruciating pace. Long before then Jim gave engineering the order to prepare the ship for some more serious idling, at which Scotty made his leave to attend to said preparations. Chekov and Sulu were excused as well, since obviously the ship was going nowhere real soon.

Kirk, Uhura, Phiora, and a few passing ensigns remained. For four grueling hours. Doing nothing, saying nothing. Waiting. For four hours.

"He's fine," Kirk said aloud every thirty minutes. Sometimes that would be accompanied by "They wouldn't keep us here if he wasn't." This time it went with, "He's a genius. He can handle himself."

Uhura slapped the console, startling everyone on the bridge. "Sir, we're being hailed." She didn't wait for an order before she flipped on the frequency.

"_Enterprise_," Jim all but barked.

"Captain, I wish to inform you I am alive and unharmed."

Phiora's heart swelled to a nearly painful proportion at the sound of Spock's voice. She was sure her brain hemorrhaged for a moment, she was so relieved. Jim gave her a "Calm down but don't say anything" gesture, and she nodded numbly.

"That's great, Spock. What—"

"Unfortunately, that is all I have time to tell you, Captain."

Jim glanced at Phiora and frowned, nodding. "Okay, Spock. As long as you're fine."

"I am, sir."

There was a pause, and Uhura declared the line to be dead. Spock had signed off.

Several tense seconds ticked by.

"I don't buy it," Phiora said suddenly.

Jim stood up as if he expected this to happen. "Phiora, you heard him. His voice was calm like it always is. Completely devoid of any...fear...."

Phiora nodded pointedly. "Gee, doesn't that sound like something he'd do? Be completely calm? Hide his unimportant suffering like he has done for so many years?"

"Well, what do you want me to do, beam over there and take down the entire crew with my bare hands?" Though he was getting frustrated, his voice maintained a steady, slightly humorous tone. It wouldn't do anyone any good for Phiora to freak out even more, which is exactly what would happen if he flew off the handles.

It seemed to work. She took a deep breath. "I don't know. I just want him back here, or at the very least, I want to see him. To know he's truly—" Her eyes widened.

"He'll be just fine," Kirk said to her gently.

But she didn't hear it, because right then, right there, she doubled over and retched.

"_You_, on the other hand..." he murmured. "Uhura, call Doctor McCoy," Jim said sharply, rushing to Phiora's side and warily drawing her to his chair, sitting her down. He locked the chair in place so the movement wouldn't antagonize her.

"Okay, everything's fine," he muttered, mostly to himself than anything. He was just about in freak-out mode himself. He took her hair out of its tight ponytail and pulled it into a looser one that was held at her neck. He found he did this for her whenever she had one of her meltdowns and whenever she was sick on an Earth visit with a headache. He wasn't sure if it alleviated any discomfort, but he liked to think it did. "Bones'll be here any second."

"Correction," a southern voice interrupted. "Bones is here _now_."

"Good man," Kirk exhaled, patting his doctor friend on the arm and letting him have access to Phiora.

After a few sweeps with the hand scanner, Bones let out a frustrated sigh. "I have to run more thorough tests on her, Jim," he said, flicking through his readings as if none of them made any sense. "Do you think you can walk, Phiora?"

The worst of the ordeal felt over, and she nodded.

Apparently it wasn't over. Almost immediately after getting off of the turbolift, she turned, opened the nearest hatch, and got sick again. Bones, who was holding her waist to steady her on the lift, chuckled.

"I remember the first time I hurled in an electric panel," he murmured pretty much to himself. "Not too long after boarding this godforsaken death trap for the first time. Made the mistake of trying to clean it up myself, which we're not going to do, because we're going to pretend it never happened...." He trailed off, carefully pulling Phiora along with him.

He helped her onto a bed and turned on the monitor. "Now all you need to do is relax. I'm doing all the work here." He pulled over a strange-looking contraption while nudging a bucket over to her bed with his foot. "If you need to heave again, use the bucket, not my torso, please and thank you."

She would have chuckled if she didn't feel like that would in fact make her heave and more than likely miss the bucket. Instead, she closed her eyes as Bones poked and prodded and hyposprayed and scanned and made all kinds of beeping noises with scary-looking instruments. When the number of seconds between each test grew to a large three-digit number, Phiora felt considerably better.

Then the tests stopped and McCoy worked on his computer for a little bit, talking to himself as he read through who knows what.

"You're looking a little better," he said, glancing over to her.

"I feel better," she replied.

"That's good. Yeah, I'm just looking over the test results now."

Another silence went by.

"Well," Bones said finally, letting out a soft sigh and staring at his monitor. "That does it."

Phiora sat up, frowning. "What does what? What is it?"

The doctor shook his head. "Now even_ I_'_m _gonna start prayin' the green-blooded bastard comes back in one piece. Wouldn't want a Jim Kirk Incident Revisited."

"A Jim Kirk—Bones, what the hell are you talking about? What's wrong with me?"

"You're pregnant, that's what's wrong with you."


	28. Unmodified Bones

_**Twenty-Eight:  
**_**Unmodified Bones**

She was staring. She wasn't sure where she was staring, but she was staring. Her mind was elsewhere. It traveled to her childhood. To stories her father used to tell her on Onofrio when she couldn't sleep. Her mother helped sometimes when she was still alive. That made more sense. After her mother died Phiora's family was on Earth so many times and for so long they just about lived there.

The stories. They'd usually be about early childhood with the twins. Sometimes they'd be about other things, like why Onofrio keeps gaining and losing a moon. That was the one she wanted to hear the most.

"Every year," Zielli would say as he and Phiora stretched out on the rug on the floor of the family room, "our big moon, Comu, has a baby moon. The baby moon grows up and goes away. Then the big moon has another baby moon. A year later, the baby moon goes away. The cycle continues."

She believed that until after her mother died. Then she and Jim were talking one day on the first Earth trip since the incident and the subject came upon Onofrio's moons. She told the story word for word, which really wasn't hard now that she thought about it; the story was only a few words long. But Jim, not knowing the significance of the story, merely shook his head.

"The littlest moon doesn't disappear. The bigger one blocks it from sight because their orbits match exactly for a short time. In fact, the littlest moon is called Tour."

That realization crushed Phiora. For years after that she thought of Tour as a coward moon. Constantly hiding behind Comu like the child she always thought it was. Then years went by, and she stopped thinking of Comu and Tour altogether. She didn't care.

"Phiora...."

Her mind returned to the _Enterprise_ in time for her to see Bones standing beside her, holding out a handkerchief. A second later she knew why.

Wiping the tears off her face and out of her eyes, Phiora smiled sadly. "Sorry. I was thinking about something that has nothing to do with anything." She sniffed. "So I'm pregnant, huh?" she asked into her lap, fiddling with the cloth.

Bones nodded and sat on the side of the bed. He heaved a hearty sigh. "You're a little ways over a month along." He really didn't want to say it. "You might have to make up your mind on your own, you know, in case...."

He didn't finish, and fortunately for them both she knew where that was going. Yet he saw the sadness trapped behind her eyes, and he sighed again.

"Why don't you wait 'til he gets back so you two can talk it out," he said. It wasn't a question. He patted her knee firmly. "Unfortunately I have to lecture you on ways to go about every option you have, so get comfortable."

To her own surprise, Phiora heard every word of that lecture.

* * *

Bones walked into Phiora's private room in the sickbay an hour and a half later. "Wanna know something weird?" She didn't answer, so he continued. "Jim just transferred visual contact with Spock down here to my portable vidcom," he told her, handing her the device. "Well, obviously _Jim_ didn't do it himself, but at any rate, the line is private, and I'll leave so you can...talk." He raised his eyebrows, then left the room, closing the door behind him.

Taking that to mean the line was open _now_, she opened the vidcom and couldn't help the broad smile that conquered her face when she saw Spock. He looked just as fine as he said he was.

"I would extend the Vulcan kiss, but I do not believe I can fit my fingers through the printer."

And Phiora knew everything _was_ okay. She knew in her heart and mind that Spock was going to come back. When, she didn't know, but he was going to be back.

Now to approach the other thing.

"That's okay, Spock. Seeing you is good enough for me right now."

Spock sensed the unease in her voice. "Phiora, something is troubling you. Is it the dispute we had before I was beamed onto this ship?"

Phiora shook her head slightly. "No."

"Then what is it? Your demeanor is worrying me."

She smiled a tiny bit. "You're becoming more and more human, you know that?"

"Your methods of evasion are proving to be unsuccessful and mildly offensive."

"I'm not evading...I'm only trying to decide whether to tell you now or in person."

"Tell me what? Are you ill?" She half-expected him to grab the monitor and start shaking it, even though his voice was still its usual, even baritone. That'd be a sight. "You do not need to hide anything from me, Phiora. I have been left alone for a time to make this call."

He might have spontaneously combusted if she didn't. "I'm trying to figure out how to tell you I'm pregnant."

The silence that followed almost seemed to Phiora like a giant lance that skewered right through Spock's chest. She noticed with some perverse amusement that the imaginary lance went through his chest to purposefully avoid his heart.

"That technique seemed efficient," he almost gasped. His eyes widened, and he looked away from the screen, the wires in his brain connecting and shorting out and reconnecting and sparking as he fought and fought against the instinct he'd unintentionally been developing to display emotion without further thought. There was a line to draw, after all. "You are...with child," he murmured slowly, as if trying to get it perfectly clear. "Undoubtedly...from one of our sessions of sexual relations."

Phiora narrowed her eyes at that phrasing. "Yes," she said carefully. "Doctor McCoy said I'm a little over a month along. Which would mean the conception was on Beylon. In the medical edifice." She paused. "Where we used _nothing_."

Spock suddenly seemed to be holding his breath, and he stared at her through the screen, rather as if he wasn't sure what to do with himself now. He seemed to understand that she wasn't saying he was at fault, but merely informing him of their mistake as a whole. His eyes darted to a place beyond the screen, as if someone just joined him in the room.

"I am needed elsewhere," he said finally after a few bizarre seconds of him just...watching something beyond the screen.

Phiora nodded slowly. "Alright. Spock," she said, just before he turned the vidcom off. "I love you."

He mouthed it back, but didn't say it aloud. He then turned off his vidcom.

After a moment of contemplation, Phiora got up to return the vidcom she had to Bones.

When she entered his office, he was gnawing on a carrot and looking at something on his computer terminal. He looked relaxed—his boot-clad feet were propped up on the desk and he was carefully yet absent-mindedly swiveling in his chair as much as his outstretched legs would allow. He saw her and grinned, letting his feet fall to the ground.

"Thanks," he said, taking the vidcom. "Hungry?" he asked, motioning to the plate of mainly Onofrian food sitting evocatively on the desk, cautiously away from where his feet had been propped up. "I figured you'd want a little bit of home right now."

Whether it was genetics or hormones, Phiora wasn't sure, but those tears just popped up and she smiled gratefully at this truly selfless gesture.

"Hey now," Bones said softly, standing up and leaning over to take her arm and usher her into the chair in front of the food. "None of that." He smiled and replaced himself in his own chair. His smile grew when she did, in fact, start eating. "Good. As a doctor I was worried about your appetite. You're not exactly eating for yourself anymore."

"You like Spock now, right?"

Bones quite cleverly stopped the bit of carrot he almost inhaled from entering his lungs, then discreetly coughed it into the right tube. He cleared his throat. "Well...it's not as if I ever _dis_liked him, necessarily. Why d'you ask?"

Phiora shrugged as she speared a tomato slice with her fork. "You two seem like you can tolerate each other more. Just something I noticed."

The doctor chewed thoughtfully. "I s'pose I've gotta get used to the guy now. Hell, I told myself that a year ago." He was quiet for a moment. "Did you tell him?"

Phiora nodded but didn't meet his eyes. "I did. I think it really startled him."

"Well, I guess I don't have to remind you...."

"Children born out of wedlock are unheard of within the Vulcan culture. I know." She stabbed another tomato slice a little harder than she intended. "But then again, we're the first and only Vulcan-Onofrian couple to exist." She stared at the fruit that occupied the fork. "And he's half human."

Her voice had gotten so quiet by the end that Bones had to lean forward a bit to hear her. "All of that is also true," he said lamely.

"Am I making his life worse?"

Bones had to truly gape at her before processing what she asked. What threw him farther, though, was the expression on her face. She really expected an answer.

What broke off during that throw was the honest answer he gave her.

"In some respects. Culturally. But I think he's willing to finally tell that small, isolated area of Vulcan culture to shove it and where shoving would be most logical." He winked at her. "Don't go thinking he's rejecting _all_ of Vulcan culture, either. That's definitely not something to worry about.

"Now to answer that question on a personal standpoint." He folded his hands. "He loves you. If you're making his life worse, it's only because he holds that much emotion for you. Frankly, I'd do all sorts of fancy tricks in front of a whole lineup of Starfleet admirals for that kind of misery. Yes, Vulcans are different. It may be doing something to him. But I can tell you right now as a doctor, a friend, and an observer, that he will get used to his love for you and be comfortable with it. Truth be told, I wasn't sure a baby was going to make that go any faster. But if he took the time to let that information simmer around that massive noggin of his as opposed to bolting, then that shows he'll more than likely be willing to give it a shot."

Phiora smiled warmly and continued eating. Then she stopped.

"Were you listening to us?"

Bones propped his feet up again, away from Phiora and her food. "What? No." He looked a little too offended. "I wouldn't do that. I don't do that."

Phiora shook her head, smirking.


	29. And So it Goes

_**Twenty-Nine:  
**_**And So it Goes**

Jim's eyes were glued to the darkness that lay before him, trying and failing to regard each and every star with some semblance of respect. There were too many of them. It didn't help that the AK47 vessel gave off the illusion of stars where there weren't any. He thought briefly about moving the ship himself; turning it so all that filled the window were stars...but then he remembered that one of his crew was on that alien ship. One of his three best friends. Spock. He might see the movement and think the _Enterprise _was leaving him.

"Why are you still here?"

He turned the chair only a fraction and raised his eyebrows in the night of the bridge. He recognized the voice. "For the same reason you're here now, Phiora." She came into view beside his chair and he sighed sharply. "You feeling better?"

Phiora nodded and affectionately smoothed down a piece of mussed-up hair on her longtime friend's head. "In a manner of speaking." She sighed as well and gazed through the darkness. "Shift's over, Jim. You're alone here."

"I was until you showed up. I don't want to miss it if Spock calls back."

"He probably won't call back."

Jim unintentionally stiffened before processing the nonchalant tone of Phiora's voice. "Why not?"

"He'll be very busy with whatever he's doing on the ship."

"Did he tell you what that was?"

Phiora shook her head. "I didn't think to ask, but I doubt he would've told me anyway." She sat in Chekov's chair and turned to the captain. "You like Spock, right?"

Jim blinked once. Then twice. He opened his mouth. He blinked a third time. "Yeah. I consider him to be one of my best friends along with you and Bones." He narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"Bones told me something in sickbay. Well...he...told me some test results."

There was a silence only broken by the gentle whirring of the _Enterprise_ indicating she was alive and well. Phiora absently poked some inactive controls, making a point of staying away from the active ones, and Jim grabbed his own chin, watching her.

"Test results? What...what kind of test results?"

Several light-years away, a star died and blinked out, going unnoticed by the two people on the bridge of the starship. Several more light-years away, a black hole disappeared. All natural events in space that nobody thought twice about, yet seemed different now. Different to Phiora.

"The kind of test results that would make life hell for me if you didn't like Spock."

The captain shifted in his seat. "He didn't get you sick, did he?"

Phiora laughed quietly, still focusing on the controls she was messing around with. "No. He didn't. He um...." She swallowed and took a deep breath. "I'm having his baby, Jim."

At first she thought he was going to react physically, but he stayed in his seat, swiveling from side to side in the idle motion she'd caught Bones in earlier down in sickbay. "That would make it difficult if I didn't like him," he said almost contemplatively. When she finally looked at him, he smiled. "I'm glad you confirmed what had been my vague suspicion. I thought I was jumping the gun and pushed it away."

"You're not mad?"

"Mad!" Jim suddenly sat forward, unable to contain himself. "Why would I be...Phiora...this is great news!"

"But you realize I'm going to have to take maternity leave later in the year, right?"

"I'll get over that!" Jim made a flamboyant gesture with his hands and sat sideways in the chair. "Christ...did you tell Spock?"

Phiora nodded. "Yeah. He was startled. I'm not sure what he thinks." The smile faded off of Kirk's face. "Bones told me he thinks Spock will get over it too. I know I'm only twenty-two, but...."

"I know," Jim said quietly. "I remember you telling me occasionally that you wanted to be a mother someday. I also remember you saying you weren't sure that would happen; that you'd be too wrapped up in emotions to give your all in any kind of relationship, romantic or parental." He crossed his arms. "You proved half of that wrong, didn't you?"

"Do you think I'd be a good mother?"

"The best." Jim grinned. "You'd be the kind of mother who wouldn't let their child even set their eyes on a bright red convertible, let alone drive one off a cliff. I imagine Spock would probably go crazy if he heard your kid merely _thought_ about red convertibles in general." He adopted a playful scowl. "God, your kid will join Starfleet completely enveloped in isolative material and personal shields."

Phiora also folded her arms. "What makes you think it'll join Starfleet?"

"Well, naturally, because I'll teach it everything it knows. Your brothers will be Uncle Rico and Uncle Vigo, the cool uncles that show up for life's milestones and deal out good advice and general hospitality. I'll be Uncle Jim, the awesome uncle who'll be the kid's mentor and train it to be the best Starfleet captain aside from me. And I'll tell it all kinds of wild stories about its mother and father; heroic stories, funny stories, _embarrassing_ stories...."

"I'm starting to think I should keep you very far away from this child," Phiora said suddenly as she played with the controls again, endeared by Jim's humor. She loved that he was so excited about this.

"I wonder what it'll look like," he said, folding his hands behind his head and gazing up at the ceiling in consideration. "Maybe it'll look human like you." _I hope it develops those beautiful Vulcan features_..._._

Phiora's hand stopped moving on its own accord.

"Maybe it'll get the ears but not the eyebrows. Or maybe the eyebrows but not the ears. I don't know; I don't think there's ever been a quarter-Vulcan out there before." Jim quickly looked at her. "What do you hope?"

She bit her lip, thinking. "I just hope it has his eyes. The rest won't matter to me one way or another."

They were suddenly plunged into an unexpected silence that wasn't awkward or uncomfortable. It wasn't much of anything, really. It was a silence. It was the result of a lack of things to say, which was odd in itself. Jim had been animatedly chatting about the unborn child's future a second ago...then it seemed he cheerfully ran out of words. Phiora ran out of words as well. It was as if someone pushed 'stop' on a recording at an opportune moment.

Jim suddenly got out of his chair and went over to the communications station—which was telling them someone was hailing—apparently having kept his eyes on it the entire time. Phiora could see through the shadow around him that he hesitated, then pressed a few buttons.

"_Enterprise_. This is Captain Kirk."

"Good evening, Captain," Spock said plainly. "I was not certain you would be present on the bridge at this current time."

"I'll be here until you get back, Spock."

Phiora could almost see the raised eyebrow. "I would dispute your logic deficit, but as expected, I do not have much time to interact with you. I have estimated that I am within the closing stages of my time on this vessel."

"What're you going to do, Spock?"

It was clear to all of them he wasn't talking about the AK47 or his presence on their ship. Spock was silent for a second.

"Is Phiora on the bridge? It would be more efficient to answer the question with both of you present."

"I'm here," she said, rubbing her hands together.

Spock took another second. "I will do my duty. Spock out."

Jim spared a glance at Phiora, who looked as if someone just insulted her when they thought she couldn't hear. He sighed.

"I can punch him when he beams back, if you want me to. Of course, he'll probably just walk out of that transporter room dragging me along by the scruff of my broken neck like nothing's happening, but I think it'd be worth it, don't you?"

Phiora couldn't help but smile. "Thanks for the thought, Jim, but I have a problem with the idea of someone punching him."

"Well you seemed pretty intent on turning him into Swiss cheese before he left...."

Phiora stopped smiling and Jim winced. Classic case of foot-in-mouth, incident number two-hundred-twenty-three.

"I kinda lost control," she said, shrugging and standing up. "I was hormonal though I believed it to be for the wrong reason." She stared at the doors for a moment. "I should call my family about this. I don't want them to think I tried to avoid telling them."

Grateful for the apparent disregard for his indiscretion, Jim exhaled silently. "Yeah, go ahead and do that. I'll stay here until Spock's ready to come back."

"That could take a long time, Jim."

"I don't care," he said, his voice just a hair's breadth away from being forceful. "I wouldn't be able to sleep knowing he's still out there, anyway."

As she walked over to the turbolift, Phiora suddenly felt fatigued herself. She wondered if she'd be able to handle the call to her family after all. "Yeah...the only reason I'll probably get sleep is because I know you'll still be here." The doors opened and she shuffled into the lift. "Just...be careful not to make too much noise in your marathon sprint to the transporter deck. I said I'd be able to get sleep, but I said nothing about sufficient sleep."

"I'll take off my sprint-activated, multi-purpose stereo, radio, and sound effect generator shoes then."

As the doors closed, Phiora threw the captain a sardonic look, earning a chuckle from him.

* * *

After managing to reach her family—they had returned to Onofrio since the last time she spoke to them, during which she told them her and Spock were seeing each other—and telling them she was pregnant—she had to put them on mute for almost two whole minutes, their joyful reactions were so loud—Phiora said her goodbyes, telling them she was sorry, but she couldn't stay awake any longer. Of course no one had a problem with that, and would probably have reached in and closed the vidcom for her if they could.

Phiora drifted onto the surface of sleep, not burying herself in sheets because she was in Spock's quarters, and though she lowered the temperature a small amount, it was still too humid for covers. She spent an hour practically forcing herself to become unconscious, and even when she dipped beneath the semi-conscious line she wasn't too far away from it. She knew subliminally what was happening around her.

Though she was, in fact, asleep, she knew that another hour crawled by. That meant it was 0700. No, that didn't make sense. When she was trying to get to sleep it was 2300, which meant it was 0100, not 0700. Her brain was trying to dream, but it was too conscious to do so. It kind of hurt a little.

She was aware of voices coming from outside the quarters, which was odd, because everyone was asleep. She thought she recognized them but she couldn't be sure that it wasn't her brain playing tricks on her. But then she became fully conscious, keeping her eyes closed in hopes that she could force herself back to unconsciousness.

The voices were whispering to each other.

"...sleeping. Don't know where."

"...in here...."

More incoherency.

"...night...."

"...to you...."

Then the sound of the doors sliding open. Phiora saw the light through her eyelids, but that was it. Then the doors closed. She felt someone getting closer to her after a few minutes, then felt the bed sink as someone sat down on it. She opened her eyes.

"I did not mean to wake you, yet I did hope somewhat that you were already awake," Spock said quietly, resting his hands on either side of her on the bed.

Phiora kept her eyes half-lidded. "Am I dreaming?"

"You are not. I returned thirty minutes and fourteen seconds ago. I would have been with you sooner had I not needed to be examined in sickbay."

"I missed you."

"And I, you."

She stretched lazily, absorbing the comfort she felt by having Spock's arms cage her on the bed. "What did those bastards want you to do?"

He straightened his spine, still keeping his arms where they were. "They could not initiate movement with their vessel and they did not know how to go about doing so. I had to teach them after learning how to myself."

Phiora would have gotten pissed had she not been exhausted. "What the hell?"

"They were intimidating, yes," Spock continued, "yet they treated me with kindness and appreciation. I do not feel that is their nature, however, which leads me to believe they only acted as such because I was helping them. Had I not helped them I do think they would have destroyed us, or at least attempted to." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "I do not wish to repeat such a...visitation again, despite their forced hospitality."

"They let us go?"

"They will once everyone is back on shift later in the morning."

She closed her eyes and stayed silent for a moment, and Spock considered getting ready for bed himself.

"Spock."

"I am still here."

"What do you want?" Phiora opened her eyes and watched his face remain utterly composed as his eyes conveyed deep thinking. But suddenly he locked gazes with her and she felt the most connected she'd ever felt with him.

"What I want," Spock said slowly, "is to be as good a father as I can possibly become by letting my child decide which life path to take. I want a Vulcan to be a Vulcan, an Onofrian to be an Onofrian, a human to be human...a tri-racial to be tri-racial. I do not desire my child to feel as trapped as I once was."

Phiora held his arm. "Are you saying...."

"I want this child...with no one else."

Despite her exhaustion she sat up and embraced Spock, who returned the embrace with as much conviction and affection as he could possibly muster.

And that was perfect for Phiora.


	30. Epilogue

_**Epilogue**_

After Spock disappeared into his quarters, Jim retreated to his own quarters, debating whether or not he should make a certain call. He wasn't sure the receiver would be awake...but then again, the times between them were different and it would probably be day on the other side of the call.

Making up his mind, he grabbed his vidcom and sat on his bed, opening the device and dialing the number he'd dialed at least once every day he could. It was so familiar he could probably successfully dial it while thinking of another number entirely.

The com beeped a few times, then a warmly recognizable face appeared, eyes all a-twinkle. The daylight in the backdrop was a welcome relief.

"Jim," the elder Spock addressed, bowing his head a little.

"Hey," Jim said as happily as he could muster through his tiredness. "Haven't talked to you in a while; sorry about that. Things were happening over here and I couldn't really get a decent break in."

"There is no need for apologies, my friend. I do understand the concept of hard work." The younger man suddenly found himself being scrutinized. "You are weary, yet your mood is considerably high."

"Good thing I look tired, because I sure as hell feel it." Jim explained to his friend about his younger counterpart's shenanigans with the AK47, to which the old man listened intently and with rapt attention. When Jim was finished, Spock Prime leaned back.

"I have never heard of this race," he said. "They sound fascinating. They seemed to recognize that hostility towards assistance would be mistake, therefore rendering it...illogical."

"Yeah, and Phiora was all upset about it, which she had every right to be...she's pregnant, you know."

"Indeed?" Eyebrows shot up in amusement and downright surprise. "What an interesting development."

Jim shook his head, grinning. "I don't know why I thought you'd be upset by that."

"It wasn't entirely incorrect of you to assume so. I am not upset; however it does trouble me to some respect." His wizened eyes met with the younger ones. "Surely you are aware that it is frowned upon within the Vulcan culture for a child to be born when the parents are not bonded."

Kirk sighed. "I forgot about that."

"Do not forget again. I will keep my peace on the matter; nevertheless, the word will more than likely be spoken amongst the colony. My counterpart will have lost a great deal of his remaining respect among his own people."

A deep sadness passed through Jim's torso at these words. "I'm sorry," he said automatically.

The old man's seriousness lifted only a little. "You and the good doctor will have to do what you can to make him feel as if he belongs on the _Enterprise_ more than anywhere else should he be spurned, forces forbid."

Jim agreed heavily. Then the two were pleasantly silent for a few moments.

"Phiora wasn't your soul mate in your time, was she?"

The aged Vulcan smiled—a small one, yet a smile nonetheless—and shook his head. "As you have correctly inferred, she was not. We were merely acquaintances." He caught the young captain's countenance. "You do not feel as disappointed as you convey." His eyes glittered with playfulness. "You have undoubtedly discovered your parallel's destiny. You should not concern yourself too heavily...though I am proud that you did not interfere with my counterpart's own personal enterprise. Every reality is different; your fate did not have to become my Kirk's fate."

"No," Jim countered, a lopsided grin taking up half his face, "but it would've been nice."

"It would have, dear friend. And it was."

_**Finis

* * *

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**If I get at least six votes for it, I will consider a sequel which will certainly hold more _pew pew_ and less QQ.**_**  
**_


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